A Second Spring
by mushroom-hunter-d
Summary: Winterbell is aging, bitter, sick, and shipped to Vvardenfell in chains. A wizardly tale of divided loyalty, love, politics and magic. Finally complete!
1. Welcome to Vvardenfell

Morrowind is owned by Bethesda Softworks, not me. That being said, Winterbell is owned by me, although I have no idea why anyone would want to borrow her. Enjoy - [)

The guard wondered vaguely why the empire had bothered to ship such a poor specimen out to Morrowind, but it was not his place to question orders. The Dunmer woman was grimy from weeks spend in the ship's filthy hold and her long iron grey hair was greasy and unkempt. Despite the fact her ragged clothes hung on her thin frame, she carried herself like a queen, an expression of distaste etched upon her aged face.  
  
As she stepped off the gangplank her thin frame was racked by a fit of coughing, and she had to steady herself on one of the wooden posts. The guard offered her his arm, but she refused it, straightened and strode to the Customs and Exercise office.  
  
She claimed that her name was Winterbell, and that she was a metamage, although she did not elabourate on what that might mean. When asked her star sign, her glowing red eyes narrowed and she spat,  
"The Atronach."  
  
As soon as she got her papers she strode out, taking revengeful amusement in relieving the officer of every piece of silverware he owned. Outside, in the town square a wood elf was whining to anyone who would stop to listen about his missing ring. Winterbell swished past him without a second glance, the ring in her pocket.  
  
With her meager coinage she purchased a pauper's robe, several spells and a bow with arrows, looking regretfully at the scrolls. In the afternoon sunlight she took one last look around then turned her steps toward Balmora. She wouldn't get very far.  
  
Winterbell walked slowly, picking mushrooms and ferns. With a grimace, she even waded into stagnant pools to collect luminous aquatic plants, reasoning that another layer of dirt wouldn't hurt.

As smugglers go, they weren't very successful. The local constabulary had been duly bought off, but the proximity of the Customs and Exercise complex meant that most of the smuggler's ships headed further north, where the pools and caves of the Bitter Coast hid a multitude of crimes, and the Cammona Tong kept things running smoothly.  
  
The smuggler sat, watching the small fire and thinking about the sweet sugar she hoped she had hidden successfully from her colleagues. She was brought out of her reverie by the sound of the door closing. The young Dunmer stood, peering into the shadows at the back of the cave. She heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the hard stone floor and drew her dagger.  
  
The young smuggler saw an old Dunmer woman, armed only with a bow, trying unsuccessfully to wring swamp water out of the hem of her robe. An easy kill, thought the smuggler, who liked the idea of a new bow.  
"It was your last mistake coming in here!" she jeered, and ran at the old woman.  
  
The old woman did not try to run, nor did she reach for her bow. Instead she merely tucked a strand of grey hair behind her ear. And waited.  
  
As the smuggler brought her arm up to strike, a thousand icy needles of pain washed over her chest and face. She screamed and her swing went wild. Winterbell's hands moved silently through the air, trailing frosty blue magic. The sparks lit up her face and her gleaming red eyes.  
  
The last thing the smuggler saw was Winterbell's cold, grim smile, and the last thing she heard was the quiet mumbling of magical incantations; fitfully, above her own screaming.  
  
Winterbell went through that cave like a typhoon, flakes of frost searing skin and tearing flesh. She threw a couple keys at some slaves, who ran like the wind from this grim executioner. Within an hour, the cave was Winterbell's.  
  
Winterbell sank to her knees, coughing up bright red blood and shivering. With trembling hands she found the ring and drew on its healing magic again and again, until the metal band was lifeless and dull.  
  
She staggered to her feet, and reeled, grasping at the wall for support. She dragged herself to a bedroll and collapsed into it, sparks flashing behind her eyelids.

Winterbell awoke feeling flat and drained. She stumbled around sleepily, gnawing on bread until she had induced sufficient interest in life to examine the cave more closely.  
  
The pools of water, she discovered, were cold but fresh, and she shiveringly washed off the grime from her journey, and did the best she could with her hair without soap. There is nothing like an icy bath to encourage moving around and warming up, and Winterbell methodically went through the smugglers' stores, carefully separating that which she wanted to keep, and that which she planned to sell.  
  
Her arms and pack loaded with goods, she staggered back into town, and dumped an armload of potions, weapons and armor onto Arrill's counter. She stood there catching her breath and wheezing a bit as he appraised her items.  
  
With her unexpected windfall Winterbell purchased an iron longsword. It was cold and heavy in her hand, and she didn't really know how to use it, but she felt strangely _low pressure_ this morning, and she decided it would be unwise to rely on her magic. She had been extravagant in her use of power, and now she paid the price.  
  
She also bought a couple of the scrolls that she had so coveted the day before. Running her hand reverently over the magical script, she marveled at one of the few forms of magic that she had no talent in.  
  
Once again she started out for Balmora, this time vowing not to enter any strange caves. The journey was, for the most part, pleasant enough. The sky was a deep blue and a gentle breeze blew from the south-east. Winterbell methodically collected ingredients, and added them to her increasingly heavy bag.  
  
There were a few wild animals, some of them hostile, but Winter managed to avoid using her magic, inexpertly wielding her new sword and bow, and utilizing the ring after every fight.   
  
By noon Winterbell's legs were starting to ache, and her pack was heavy on her back. However, the aging dark elf was in luck, for she arrived at the pleasant provincial town of Pelagiad around lunchtime. The local innkeeper was taking full advantage of the warm weather, and had set up several tables outside under a nearby tree.  
  
Winterbell sat in the dappled sunshine and ordered her first proper meal since arriving on the island, hound steak with mushroom sauce and lots of bread. She breathed deep of the fresh clean air, so unlike the smog of the Imperial City, and decided that, while this place was far more dangerous than her previous home, it was also far more pleasant.  
  
She was tempted to stay for a day or two in Pelagiad, maybe explore the large lakes that her waitress had claimed were really worth visiting, but the small package tied to her waist reminded her of more serious matters. She frowned and examined object more closely. It was obviously a packet of papers, the wrapping secured with the Emperor's seal in blood red wax. She ran her fingers over it, viscerally certain that no good news was contained within. She resolved to rid herself of it as soon as possible, and so, rather regretfully, she paid her bill and left, reminding herself to come back someday when she had more time.

The girl was far too young, and far too wealthy to be out on her own. Her rich clothes made Winterbell feel distinctly shabby, and she would have strode past, aching back or no aching back, if it weren't for her piteous expression and desperate tone of voice.  
  
Winterbell eased herself onto the grassy bank, and idly pulled the petals off a willow anther as she listened to the poor girl's story. She was not in the least surprised to learn the young noblewoman was a victim of robbery. She was surprised, however, to learn that she was more distressed by the loss of the robber than the loss of her jewels. She begged the old Dunmer to help her find her crush, however Winterbell was not impressed,  
"You should be grateful that he left you with your honour and your throat intact, not seeking more punishment."  
"Oh surely you remember what it was like to be young."  
"All too clearly," said Winterbell rather sourly.  
The young Breton was sharp enough to realize she'd touched upon a sore point, and tried a different tack,  
"If this love is a mistake, it will be my mistake, not my father's. I would rather die an old maid, dishonoured by a bandit, than agree to marry whatever fat merchant's son he picks out for me."  
Winterbell looked rather more approving,  
"If you think you can handle it, on your own head be it. I do happen to remember there was a Dunmer hanging around the place I had lunch. He might be this Nelos you are so keen to find."  
"Oh you are too kind, please, give him this token of my affection."  
"I'm sure he has more than a couple of your tokens already." said Winterbell wryly, but with good humor.  
  
Leaving her bag at Maurrie's feet, Winterbell made good time back to Pelagiad. The rather tough looking Dunmer did indeed turn out to be Nelos, and Winterbell was heartened by the fact that he seemed to touched by the gesture. Whatever was in the note he wrote to Maurrie, it was enough to make the girl practically sob with joy.  
  
She threw her arms around Winterbell, who smiled awkwardly, and rather gracelessly disentangled herself. She hefted her bag and cast a worried eye over a clouding sky,  
"I'd better be going, I have to make Balmora by nightfall."  
"Please do take care then, maybe you should meet my friend Barnand-"   
Winterbell held up her hand, "I appreciate the gesture, but I'm a bit old for that sort of thing."  
"Nonsense, if I can find love I'm sure someone as nice as you can as well. You just have to open your heart." Maurrie declared, her eyes shining.  
Winterbell shook her head, and with a scowl that kept threatening to twist into a smile, she set off for Balmora.  
"She thinks I'm nice. This island really is full of the _strangest_ people."


	2. Of Mud and Mages

Do I have to put a disclaimer at the top of every chapter? I guess it can't hurt. Morrowind doesn't belong to me, and I'm still waiting for my Vvardenfell Visa application to be processed. Winterbell is technically mine, but she can take care of herself. –[)

Winterbell left Maurrie at a brisk walk that was dangerously close to a jog. Gone were the bright blue skies and fluffy clouds of this morning. The atmosphere was hot and oppressive under a thick layer of cloud that had been pulled across the sky like a soggy woollen blanket. Thunder rumbled ominously in the East, and Winterbell cursed the young woman who had delayed her so.

As Winterbell crossed the foyda a nix hound stirred, and with a grunt, ran at the old Dunmer, its huge feet kicking up clouds of ash. Winterbell did not waste time flailing around with her sword. The nix swiped at her with one of its paws, but Winterbell dodged, and she fearlessly reached out and wrapped her right hand around one of its massive mandibles. With a snarl she summoned her magic. Frost flowed from her hand so powerfully that the nix's carapace cracked, forced apart by shards of ice.

In its death throes, the nix caught Winterbell in her midsection, and she went down, coughing and spluttering, in the dusty ash. Winterbell staggered to her feet, her face and clothes now the same silvery grey as her hair. Wiping the grit out of her eyes and spitting it from between her teeth, she continued on.

She did not give Moonmoth Fort more than a passing glance, her only concern now was to reach the town before the rain hit. As she drew within sight of the Odai River, her spirits rose. Standing before a bridge was stone obelisk, with the word "BALMORA" inscribed on it. Some enterprising person had scratched "Room and Hot Food: Visit the Eight Plates" in-between the official lettering.

Winterbell was thinking that the Eight Plates did indeed sound like a nice prospect, when, with a blinding flash of lightning and an ear-splitting roll of thunder, the heavens opened. Winterbell did not have the energy to run from the deluge. With a cynical "It figures." she trudged across the bridges.

When ash gets wet, it turns to a black, sticky mud, and Winterbell got first-hand experience of this phenomenon. She tried dashing between doorways, but decided that she couldn't possibly get any more cold, wet, and shivery than she already was. She trudged towards a well-lit building emblazoned with "Southwall Cornerclub" with the stoicism of someone who believes that their day cannot get any worse.

Bacola Closcius was not impressed with his latest guest. In poor robes, coughing and shivering, and dripping equal amounts of rainwater and ash-mud on his floor, he had half a mind to toss her out into the rain again. Winterbell blinked in the smoky light, and approached the innkeeper for directions to a certain Caius. She would track mud across more than one Imperial's floor tonight.

Winterbell was all too happy to hand over the, by now rather soggy, Imperial package. Caius spent a couple minutes reading the letter and then looked Winterbell up and down rather curiously.

"This rather unusual letter informs me that I'm to offer you a place in our...ah, organisation. Working for the Emperor, naturally. As long as you can follow orders. Will you follow my orders, Winterbell?"

Winterbell examined the tiny room with distaste; everything about this man was shabby and poor, except for his rather smug attitude. The only thing of any value she could see was a skooma pipe. She drew herself up to her full, if rather unimpressive, height, and with an icy voice replied,

"I thank you for your, doubtlessly generous, offer. However I respectfully decline. The Emperor has caused me more than enough trouble today. Good night to you."

Caius did not seem impressed by her response; with an irritated scowl he told her to get out, to come back only if she was willing to follow his orders. Nose in the air, Winterbell strode out into the storm.

Alone and in an unknown town, Winterbell huddled rather miserably under an awning. Her use of power earlier had made her dizzy, and she knew she wasn't thinking straight, all the buildings looked alike to her. Once again she was racked by coughing, and this drew the attention of an Argonian, who seemed to be out in the storm for no reason other than to enjoy the rain. The Argonian walked slowly up to the mage and offered a clawed hand.

"This scent is new," the Argonian hissed softly, "why is the warm blood out in the rain?"

"I don't have anywhere else to be, really." Winterbell managed between further bouts of coughing.

"You don't sound well. Maybe the warm blood should see a healer at the Temple or the Mage's Guild."

Winterbell's eyes took on a deranged gleam, and she grasped the Argonian's arm hard enough to make her wince, "There's a Mage's Guild here?" she questioned in an urgent, somewhat desperate tone.

The Argonian blinked, and wordlessly pointed to a large building, overlooking the square, in front of which was a large sign that read "Balmora Mage's Guild". The strange old Dunmer winced at her own lack of observation, and with another racking cough headed, rather unsteadily, for the entrance.

"The mages don't usually see customers this...late at night." The Argonian trailed off when it was obvious that mad Dunmer wasn't listening. Shaking her head, the Argonian wandered off into the rain, reflecting that the wizards were going to have a hard time of it.

Ranis Athrys expertly scratched her quill along the paper. She prided herself on her penmanship and on her economy; economy with words, economy with the funds allocated, and, occasionally, economy with the truth. Her reports were, in their own way, works of art, although she doubted anyone bothered to read them.

There was a muffled thump on the door, and it creaked open. Technically it was supposed to be locked when the Mage's Guild wasn't open, but this was soon done away with, as the staff tended to lose their keys with annoying regularity, and not all of them were alteration experts.

Ranis raised an eyebrow bemusedly at the newcomer. Dunmer like herself, the stranger seemed definitely worse for wear. Her gaze was bright, but in a fevered and brittle way, and her frame shook constantly with coughs. She had been in the rain for a while, and sometime before that in ash. Ranis wasn't too worried about her floor: the Mage's Guild had the funds to employ someone to clean once a week or so, an Argonian girl, if Ranis remembered correctly.

Ranis was about to refer the wild-eyed stranger to the Temple, where the healers were far more expert, when she noticed the over-full bag that the stranger had placed on the floor. It was full of alchemical ingredients. Ranis eyed the stranger again, this time from a professional viewpoint. No armour, few weapons, robe and half-mad.

"Are you here to join?" Ranis asked. The stranger stopped coughing, seemed to stop breathing even and stared at Ranis with eyes like hot coals. Then she carefully took off her muddied shoes, and walked forward, barely blinking, until she was practically nose-to-nose with the surprised mage.

"Me? Join the Guild, just like that?"

"We take anyone. If you're no good you can collect ingredients for the rest of your life, we don't care."

"I'll join!" she practically shouted, her face a picture of eagerness and disbelief.

Ranis backed away from the stranger and got the forms, wondering if she'd made a mistake. She handed the stranger her quill, and watched as she wrote in flowing script "Winterbell, Metamage".

"Metamage?"

"I don't fit any of the usual categories, so I made my own."

"Well then, welcome to the Guild. You can stay here if you like, and make use of the supply box and-"

Winterbell practically lunged at the supply box, pawing through the scrolls until she found some potions. Like someone dying of thirst she slugged back two of them in quick succession, shuddering as they worked their magic.

She felt the fevered light-headedness leave her as the magic flowed back into her veins. Her coughing subsided and she now realised how tired, aching, cold, and hungry she was. She looked up at the well-dressed Dunmer who had admitted her. Rising to her feet, she bowed low to the mage, and uttered her sincere thanks.

Despite her condition, Winterbell practically floated downstairs, a faint, genuine, smile lighting up her features. Athrys, who seemed to be in charge of the guildhall, had referred her to one of her subordinates, a Kaijit named Ajira, and with her feet still bare, Winterbell padded off in search of her.

The guildhall was quiet except for the bubbling of potions and the scratching of quills. A red-headed Dunmer looked up as Winterbell passed, but his eyes were unfocussed, his attention on the book in front of him.

Ajira was still awake too. She was talking quietly with a high elf over some local brew. Winterbell introduced herself, and Ajira told her that her first duties would be collecting mushrooms. Winterbell looked pleased,

"Oh, I can do that." She said, turning and padding back upstairs.

"No, I didn't mean now." Ajira protested, looking to the high elf, who merely shrugged her shoulders. Winterbell soon returned with her bag, and began fishing through its contents. Ajira looked very pleased,

"Ah, I see you travel well, Winterbell. It's always good to see a fellow alchemist."

"I'm afraid I'm not very good, ingredients were always so expensive in the Imperial Capital."

When Winterbell produced the required mushrooms, Ajira was so pleased she promoted the Dunmer on the spot.

"You've had a long day, haven't you," she said sympathetically, "Here, dry off your hair, and you can borrow one of my robes, you can't stand around in that."

Somewhat dryer and a lot warmer, Winterbell took a seat. Ajira busied herself with her new mushrooms, but the high elf produced some food and drink and introduced herself as Estirdalin. As Winterbell wolfed down bread and scrib jelly, Estirdalin leant forward with the eager gaze of a professional gossip, and filled the newcomer in on the doings of her fellow guild members.

"Ajira and Galbedir have been at each others throats for weeks. Athrys encourages them; I think she likes to watch the competition. Sharn is friendly enough, she's always complaining about her 'projects' whatever they may be, but just ignore that. That over there is Marayn Dren, he's-"

"Dren?" mumbled Winterbell through a mouthful of food.

"Ah yes," Estirdalin looked pleased, "even an outlander such as yourself has heard of that name. His brother is the Duke, his family is _very_ big in house Hlaalu. From what I hear, he's a bit of a black guar. If he wasn't the youngest son and indulged a bit, they never would have let him become a mage. They still think we're a bit iffy, even though they know full well how we feel about Telvanni."  
Winterbell looked amused, "Two wizarding factions on the island and they're at each other's throats. Why am I not surprised."  
"Enough about us, tell me about yourself." Estirdalin urged.  
"I'm from the Cyrodil, this morning I was in Seyda Neen, I've been helping lovestruck idiots all day and there was a nix..." Winterbell trailed off, her head sinking lower until it rested on the table.  
"Are..are you all right?"  
Winterbell didn't answer, although she did start snoring softly. Marayn looked up from his book,  
"What have you done to her, Estir?"  
"Nothing, I swear. She just fell asleep after half a glass of sujamma."  
"After half an hour of your gossiping, more likely," he stood and walked over to the sonnibulant elf, "we should get her into a bed, we can't leave her here."  
He bent down and tried to get the sleeping Dunmer to move, "Come on, it's only a few feet."  
"She said she was in Seyda Neen this morning."  
"No wonder she's exhausted, she doesn't look well enough to be trekking across the countryside, put your arm around..."  
Winterbell muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a frost incantation, but did not wake up. Marayn eventually half dragged, half carried her to a bed.  
  
Ranis strolled in, a sheaf of papers in her hands, "I see you've met our newest recruit. She's interesting, isn't she?"


	3. Catspaw and Tomb Raider

Morrowind is not mine; Bethesda has the dubious honour of owning 90 million cliff racers. I have the dubious honor of owning one half-mad mage. ::shakes finger at Gipfel:: don't get ahead of the author, romance is a secondary category for a reason. –[)

Winterbell awoke to the sound of voices, in an unfamiliar bed and an itchy robe that seemed to be covered in cat hairs. She wondered, with a stab of fear, whether or not last night was a dream. It all seemed rather unlikely in the cold light of morning. Still mostly asleep, she sat up and swung her legs off the bed. And smacked her head on the bunk above her.  
  
"Ow!" She winced, recoiling and putting her hand on her forehead, "well, I know I'm not dreaming."  
"Would you like some tea?"  
Winterbell looked up to find a rather pretty Breton with cropped russet hair peering down at her. In her hands was a cup of orange liquid. Winterbell smiled as politely as she was able to first thing in the morning and accepted the cup. The firepetal tea was spicy and restorative, and within a few minutes Winterbell was up and about, observing the Mage's Guild doing business.  
  
The Breton turned out to be the Guild Guide, and with a cheery, "Keep all your limbs inside the platform please." She sent a Kaijit family to Vivec with a "whoosh" that rustled the papers on Ajira's desk.  
  
Not so cheery was Sharn Gra-Muzgob. The Orc seemed to view her customers as an annoyance, and did nothing to hide her opinions. Ajira was doing much better business, and as a consequence her prices were somewhat higher. Estirdalin had far fewer customers, and she seemed to be holding one-on-one meditation sessions with them.  
  
"She's creating spells for them," Winterbell jumped as Marayn appeared at her elbow, "if you want something more powerful, or something that combines spell effects you have to get the spell custom-made."  
"What do you do here?"  
"I sell standard spells, mainly alteration and destruction. I also provide training. May I ask you the same question?"  
"I don't know how to train people, I don't have many spells, but I do have some skill with enchanting and alchemy."  
"Both eh? Be careful then, you may find yourself stuck between Ajira and Galbidir. That's not the healthiest place to be."  
"Estirdalin warned me about them."  
"It's Ranis," Marayn frowned, "she encourages them by only promoting one at a time. It's not healthy, having a feud like this, bad for business."  
Winterbell got the impression that the dark elf was thinking of something entirely different when he uttered that last line. His gaze was dark and thoughtful for a moment then he seemed to recall where he was, and gave Winterbell a brief smile, "Ajira was waiting for you to wake up, I think she has more duties for you."  
  
Winterbell waited patiently while Ajira dealt with a brawny Redguard after some cure blight potions. When he had gone Ajira beckoned Winterbell closer with a very shifty look on her furry face. With a wicked grin that showed her pointed canines, the Kaijit slipped something cold and glassy into Winterbell's palm.  
"Put it in Galbidir's desk." She purred with a knowing wink.  
  
Winterbell found a dark corner and examined the object. It was a magnificent work of forgery. Made of blue glass, it was an almost-perfect replica of a lesser soul gem. Only its heaviness and lack of shine gave it away. Winterbell weighed the object thoughtfully in her hand for a few moments, trying to decide what to do.  
  
At that very moment, an exquisitely dressed wood elf swept down the stairs. Winterbell quickly shoved the fake gem into her pocket. The wood elf didn't give her a second glance, assuming she was a customer. She headed straight for Marayn, and Winterbell slipped upstairs.  
  
When Winterbell reached Galbidir's desk, her breath caught in her throat. Sitting in full view was a magnificent array of soul gems, every one of them shining and warm with a soul inside. Winterbell slipped the fake into the desk in a daze, her eyes glued to the gleaming display. She gently ran her hand over the gems, feeling their strange warmth. The sound of approaching footsteps brought her to her senses, and with one last glance, she slipped outside.  
  
Balmora did not look any more prepossessing by day than it did by night. A light rain sprinkled down, and the buildings looked damp and depressed in the muted light. Winterbell did not stay to enjoy the view, but merely circled down the stairs and went in again by the front door.  
  
Ranis was just inside the door, arguing with an Imperial woman, who claimed that a potion had misfired.  
"Well they're gone, aren't they?" Ranis snapped, merely nodding at Winterbell as she passed, "Look, some people find that sort of thing very attractive." The argument continued as Winterbell made her way back to Ajira.  
  
Ajira was very pleased, in a rather childlike, malevolent way, and handed Winterbell a mortar and pestle, saying that there was no point in collecting ingredients unless you could use them.  
"Speaking of ingredients," Ajira said, "you wouldn't have some flowers in that bag of yours, would you?"  
As it turned out, Winterbell lacked only the stoneflower petals that Ajira required. Realizing that lunch would have to wait a little while, Winterbell emptied out her bag onto her bed, and strapped on her sword.  
  
Winterbell walked over to Marayn, who was finishing up an alteration class. When he was done, Winterbell dropped her bag of gold on his desk.  
"I'd like to buy some spells. School of destruction."  
Marayn raised an amused eyebrow, "Need some firepower? Just where are you going then?"  
"To pick some flowers." Winterbell replied.

Marayn charged Winterbell only 'Guild rates' for the spells, so she had enough gold left over to buy some lunch and get the nicks her sword beaten out by a sullen Nord who seemed to think she shouldn't have been allowed a weapon at all.

Winterbell strolled out of Balmora with no particular destination in mind, as Ajira seemed to think that stoneflowers were fairly common. The rain had stopped, and the sun was playing hide and seek amongst tattered clouds. Winterbell wandered along the Odai river, collecting what ingredients she could.

Winterbell had yet to see any of the delicate blue flowers that Ajira required, so she turned away from the river into a narrow valley. There were no stoneflowers, but there was corkbulb and heather and a mindless scrib that seemed intent on tripping the mage up. Not wishing to get a face full of paralyizing poison, Winterbell resisted the urge to kick it.

There was also a small door set into the granite of the hill. Winterbell wandered up to it curiously; it was obvious that the door had not been opened in a long time. Winterbell realized that it was one of the many Dunmer tombs that dotted the Vvardenfell landscape, and, remembering the loot she found in the smuggler's cave, she started to prise the door open.

It opened with a protesting screech and a wave of musty air rolled out of the darkness. Winterbell stuck her head round the door, seeing only a flight of steps that led down to another door. Magic and adrenalin surging through her, Winterbell crept up to the next door, and gave it a gentle push. It had been trapped long ago, but the magic was as potent as ever. Winterbell found herself unable to move, her fingers still brushing the door.

Just when she was beginning to wonder if she would be stuck in this rediculous situation forever, the magic faded, and she could move again. Making a note to buy some thieving tools when she had the money, Winterbell pushed on the door again. It opened without a sound.

The spirits of the dead lingered here. Winterbell could hear their whisperings and eerie mutterings all about her. Undaunted, the mage continued on, past cobweb-shrouded urns and bone pits. As Winterbell passed the dust stirred, and hissing with spectaral indignation, a ghost rose above her, magicka sparking between its bony fingers.

Winterbell was a lot faster than the ghost, but it seemed to shrug off her cold magic, casting its own subtle weakening spells. Winterbell glared at it and summoned magic that crisped and bubbled the ectoplasm, and the ghost returned to whatever afterlife it was awakened from with a weird, echoing scream. Winterbell soon shrugged off the effects of the ghost's magic, like the paralysis trap they seemed to be temporary.

Thanking her foresight in buying some varied spells, Winterbell continued onwards and downwards, leaving a trail of blackened ectoplasm. There were strange powders and rare ingredients scattered about the tomb, and a couple scrolls. Winterbell collected everything, keeping a running total of how much they might be worth in her head.

From behind the last door came a strange scraping noise. Then a kind of sighing sound. Winterbell cracked her knuckles and pulled her magic to her fingertips. Opening the door as quietly as she could, Winterbell stepped into the inner tomb.

The spectre was twice her height and seemed to have four bony arms. It's eyeless sockets regarded Winterbell and it sent a blast of destructive magic in the mage's direction. Winterbell held up her hands, expecting the worst. The malevolent magic crashed against her small frame, but she felt no pain or sickness. In fact, as the sparkling magicka sank into her skin, she felt stronger, felt the sweet, raw power of pure magicka suffuse her being. Without effort Winterbell hurled a ball of fire at the spectre. It recoiled, but sent another spell. Once again it only fuelled Winterbell's wizard fire. Moving closer, the spectre managed to slash one of its bony hands across Winterbell's face before collapsing in a cloud of bone dust.

Winterbell stared at her own hands for a few seconds, trying to process what had just happened. She was bleeding from cuts in her face and physically exhausted, but the magic, the magic felt strong and powerful. Winterbell sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands. Suddenly her frame shook with peals of hysterical laughter that rang and echoed horribly in the tomb.

"All these years, all this time," she shrieked with a horrible kind of dispair, "Magicka for the taking, oh they would have _loved _it!"

The laughter gave way to gulping sobs, and Winterbell whispered from between her fingers, "All these years..."

The door of the tomb was kicked open so hard it practically splintered off its hinges. Her face streaked with blood and tears Winterbell stalked out of it, a slow-burning, insane fury tensing her frame. Some egg miners were one their break nearby; they took one look at the mage and wordlessly got out of her way.  
  
It wasn't until late the next day that Winterbell appeared back at the Mages Guild. Her face and arms held deep, bloody scratches, and she looked like she hadn't been to sleep. Her bag was stuffed to bursting with potions, scrolls, weapons, alchemical ingredients, and even a skull. What drew attention to her, however, was the weird light in her eyes, and the magicka that sparked and discharged between her fingers and off the ends of her hair.  
  
Masaline put her hand over her mouth in horror, and even Ranis left her desk, her face a picture of curiosity. Sharn looked vaguely approving, and Marayn looked worried and horrified. Winterbell didn't seem to notice the stares, but she did stop dead when she saw Ajira.  
  
"Rats!" she exclaimed. Without another word she turned on her heel and marched straight out again. She strode up to the manor district and made a beeline for "Whitehaven's Fine Alchemists". Marching up to the high elf inside, Winterbell placed one gold piece on the desk.  
"I'd like a stoneflower please."


	4. The Soul Gem Fiasco

Bethesda _wishes_ they owned Winterbell. /sarcasm But they merely own everything else in this story. Gipfel: no offence taken. Dren will be a fairly major character, so who knows what will happen... (Actually I do, but I'm keeping it a secret). Also, ancestral ghosts and bonewalkers cast drain attribute spells that wear off after a while. –[)

Winterbell gave Ajira the flowers without a word and, after casting some healing spells, tumbled into bed, not even bothering take her sword off. She did not rest peacefully, often mumbling angrily in her sleep. Sharn seemed to hover around her almost protectively, much to the puzzlement of the other guild members.

Winterbell slept for a full day, finally waking in the early hours of the next morning. She took advantage of the deserted guildhall to sit and think for quite a while. She sorted the objects in her bag, but didn't feel like facing the irritating task of selling her goods. She propped the skull up on her desk, where it weighted down some heather.

When the others arrived for start of business Winterbell was silently making potions. Ajira had rewarded her with an alembic and Winterbell was bent over it, frowning in concentration as she tried to get proportions just right. Sensing her desire to be left alone, the others left her to it without comment.

At the end of the day Ajira padded up to her and gently suggested that she should eat something. Winterbell blinked at her, and started cleaning up her workbench. Ajira, Estildir and Marayn held an impromptu conference around Marayn's desk.

"She's still acting oddly. What do you think happened to her?"

"She'd absorbed a lot of magicka. That's enough to unbalance anybody temporarily."

"But _how_ could she have absorbed that much? It was practically coming out her ears. Only someone practiced in the school of mysticism could do that."

"Even then they wouldn't. It was magicka wasted, it was overflowing."

"Maybe it was an accident."

"I sent her out for flowers. Why did she come back with armour and a _skull_ of all things?"

"I don't like to say this...but maybe, maybe she's been looting tombs." Estidalin suggested, with a worried look at Marayn. He frowned,

"All right, I'm not offended. I know it goes on, especially among non-elvish races. Even Dunmer have been known to raid the tombs of others' ancestors. It could get her in serious trouble with the Temple though, if they found out."

Sharn, who had obviously been listening in, walked up with a determined frown on her face.

"The Temple won't find out then, will they? We wouldn't turn in one of our own to those mage-hating religious fanatics."

The others were startled by the vehemence of her statement.

"Well of course _we_ won't turn her in."

Winterbell watched the conspiratorial group in the corner with a shrewd idea what they were discussing. Rolling her eyes and jangling some coins in her pocket, she went out for dinner.

"Let them think whatever they want. My business is my own and no one else's."

Of course, things didn't work like that in the Mage's Guild. Now that Winterbell was up and about, the Orcish alchemist seemed to pay even more attention, 'just happening' to pass her desk several times a day. Winterbell got a bit sick of having her work eyed so often, but didn't say anything, preferring to wait and see what Sharn was playing at.

She didn't have to wait long. Two days after her return Winterbell had run out of useful things to do with her ingredients, and was carefully storing any left over mushrooms and flowers for her next session. It was the seventh day of the week, and the Mage's Guild was only open in the morning. Ranis and Masaline had zapped off to Vivec; Ranis to do some business and Masaline all dressed up and giggling about seeing a play. Marayn had left early, muttering darkly about having to write some letters.

Winterbell was aware of the Orc sidling closer, but ignored her, instead trying to untangle some chokeweed from some heather. Finally Sharn was standing at Winterbell's desk,

"That's an interesting skull you have there." she said in a rather too casual tone. Winterbell picked up the skull and examined it,

"Yes, it is interesting isn't it? It's got all these things scratched into it. That's why I picked it up." She eyed the Orc, daring her to come to the point.

"Well, I... collect... unusual things. I am NOT a necromancer! That is, if you haven't got any use for it..." Sharn trailed off, her eyes looking everywhere but at Winterbell. Winterbell said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow.

"I'll give you five hundred drakes for it!" Sharn finally offered. Winterbell gave a sharp, triumphant little smile and shoved the skull into the Orc's hand. "Deal!"

It's amazing what money can do. By the next day Sharn had handed over the five hundred gold, and with her coin bag now bulging, Winterbell finally had the impetus to do some business. Her travelling pack now full of potions, some homemade, scrolls and weaponry, she went on a tour of Balmora's business district.

Winterbell drove a hard bargain, and by lunchtime had more than doubled her wealth. Now it was time to go shopping. Winterbell visited the tailor's, the alchemist's, the smith's and she even went to the Temple for restoration and illusion spells. She also bought spells from her colleagues and by the end of the day she was almost in a good mood.

She handed Ajira back her robe politely, and graciously accepted promotion. She now had several plain robes for travelling and a more expensive, green one for when she was in town. The other mages breathed a sigh of relief; maybe their new recruit had finally settled in and would be happy as an affluent alchemist. Of course, Winterbell was thinking the exact opposite, having invested in a better bow and some more combative spells.

Marayn wandered up and complemented Winterbell on her new robe. Winterbell shrugged indifferently.

"Are you going to be all right now? You haven't seemed very well since you got here."

"I have never been and I doubt I will ever be 'very well'. But I have made a decision. Forty years is a long time to waste, and I don't plan on wasting any more." There was an undercurrent of resentful anger in Winterbell's voice, but she seemed calm. Marayn regarded her thoughtfully and told her to take care of herself. Winterbell seemed to find this amusing for some reason, and assured him that she would do no such thing.

With the Mage's Guild restored to relative calm, Ajira gave Winterbell more duties. None of them, to the mage's disappointment, required her to leave Balmora, so she spent the first half of the morning buying Ajira various pieces of equipment.

Winterbell walked back carefully, her arms full of ceramic goods. Placing them on Ajira's desk she looked around with puzzlement.

"Where's Ajira?" she asked Masaline.

"I don't know. She was here a second ago, how very strange." The Breton peered around.

"Aah!" Winterbell yelped, as a furry hand wrapped around her ankle. Winterbell stepped back, and a very angry alchemist crawled out from under the desk. Her green eyes flashing with fury, Ajira was practically incoherent with rage.

"You!...They...she's...where...grrrrr! That bitch has stolen my reports!" She yowled.

"Reports?" Winterbell questioned cautiously.

"You! Find them! Now!" Ajira snarled at Winterbell and then looked at Masaline, "You look as well!"

"But I'm working." Masaline protested. Ajira growled, showing her pointed canines, Masaline backed off, "I'm looking, I'm looking!" she said, scurrying away from the fuming Kaijit.

Winterbell prowled about, looking under beds and in baskets, much to the amusement of the other mages, especially Ranis. When she opened a chest full of Marayn's notes, she realized that there were a million places the reports could be, and decided to talk to the enchanter herself.

Galbedir was not in the least surprised to see her. The wood elf was lounging at her desk, listening to the chaos below with a faint smile.

"Where did you hide them?" Winterbell asked wearily.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Galbedir in a surprisingly high and girlish voice, "I'm sure that Kaijit has just misplaced them in her old age."

"Look, I have no idea what she did to you," Winterbell lied, "But her next promotion is dependant on these reports."

"You are a good little catspaw, excuse the pun, aren't you?"

"I do chores for her because Ranis told me to. I'm as much an enchanter as I am an alchemist. I don't enjoy these stupid little games you're playing."

"You poor thing." Galbedir said in mock-sympathy, rolling her eyes. Winterbell's eyebrow twitched, but she said nothing.

"Seriously, I do feel sorry for you. It must be awful taking orders from _her_. I suppose I've had my fun. My work is all but finished anyway, there's no way Ajira will get that promotion." Galbedir sighed dramatically and told Winterbell where she had hidden the reports.

Ajira's glee at recovering her reports could probably have been heard from Red Mountain. Winterbell said merely that Galbedir had pointed her to them, but Ajira took this as an admission of guilt. Her cries of 'Thief' brought the enchanter down from the top floor to defend her honour.

Ajira claimed Galbedir was a thief, Galbedir claimed that Ajira was losing her mind. Sharn frowned over a book, her fingers jammed firmly in her ears. Ajira argued that Galbedir should be expelled for stealing; Galbedir claimed it was time for Ajira to retire. Marayn and Estirdalin sat in silence over some tea, trying to ignore the shouting match. Ajira cast aspersions on Galbedir's expertise as an enchanter; Galbedir accused Ajira of cheating her customers. Masaline hovered between them, trying ineffectually to calm them down. Ajira implied that Galbedir was of loose morals; Galbedir suggested that Ajira was inbred. Ranis wandered downstairs with a nasty little smile to watch the show. Winterbell changed into a plain robe, strapped on her sword and bow, and stalked upstairs, declaring loudly that she was going out for a while, and would be back at some later time.

The front door slammed shut behind Winterbell. The argument continued below, unabated. A minute or two later, the door to the second floor balcony creaked open, and Winterbell poked her head around it cautiously, listening. Satisfied that everyone was downstairs and would remain that way for at least a little while, Winterbell slipped in, closing the door quietly and carefully behind her. Once again the soul gems mesmerized her. She stood, paralysed by indecision for a while, and then with a determined, angry little smile, she swept the soul gems into her bag and left, just as quietly as she had come in.

Winterbell arrived back at the Mage's Guild the next morning, once again her bag full of weapons and armour, and feeling light-headed and weak from magicka loss. She raided the supply box, and wandered downstairs. The scene that met her eyes was eerily similar to the one she had left the previous day.

Galbedir was by turns abusing Ajira and hysterically bemoaning her loss. Ajira was indignantly and vocally protesting her innocence while Estirdalin was simultaneously trying to back her up and calm her down. Masaline was comforting Galbedir and Marayn was trying unsuccessfully inject some logic into the proceedings. Ranis did not seem worried, but did decide this was a perfect opportunity to give a lecture on why the Mage's Guild should be locked up at night. Sharn periodically bellowed at everyone, telling them to kindly shut up. There was also a little old Dunmer there, who had apparently come in to get a potion for his warts. He was being totally ignored.

Carefully schooling her expression into one of puzzled bemusement and just a hint of worry, Winterbell stepped around the unfortunate customer and raised her own voice,

"What by all the Daedra is going on in here?!"

There was a brief few seconds of silence, then, "What about my warts?" And the shouting continued as loud as before. Marayn eventually threw up his hands and stepped away from the group, joining Winterbell in the doorway with a brief explanation.

"So, someone walked in, through a door that wasn't locked, and collected some gems that weren't even in a desk."

Marayn sighed and ran his hand over his hair, "Yeah, I know, she put them on display because it impresses the customers, but she stopped locking them up at night after a few years."

"I don't think Ajira did it."

"Neither do I. It's too obvious, and it's stooping to Galbedir's level. Besides, I don't think you can fake that level of indignation."

"Ranis is really enjoying this."

"Unfortunately yes, I sometimes think...no, never mind."

"What?"

Marayn's deep red eyes regarded Winterbell for a few moments, "I just wish she'd go. Retire or get promoted or something. This place used to be a lot nicer before she came here. I dunno. Forget it, I didn't say anything."

Winterbell looked thoughtful as she took off her sword and placed her bag on the floor; carefully, so the gems in the bottom of it didn't clink together.


	5. To the East: Desert and Ocean

Bethesda owns Morrowind. All of it. Even the little pointy bits at the top. You think Winterbell's been unfair to the Mage's Guild so far, you just wait for what comes next. –[)

For the next few days the Mage's Guild seethed with rumours and theories as to what might have happened to Galbedir's gems. Surprisingly enough, Galbedir got little sympathy, the general consensus being that it was her fault for leaving a fortune on display like that.

Winterbell now had the money for some better alchemical equipment, and she seemed to be more successful in making potions. Galbedir's gems lay untouched at the bottom of Winterbell's bag, but she had managed to trap some souls of her own, and spent a morning in grim silence, trying to enchant her sword. Her eventual success was marked with a triumphant grin and a trip into the wilderness to test it out.

Everyone was getting used to Winterbell's dramatic returns. No one raised an eyebrow when she returned staggering and bleeding and slugging back potions. Ajira and Marayn expressed worry over her health, but she waved them off, telling them she knew what she was doing. Eventually, of course, the supply box ran out.

Sparks flashing before her eyes, Winterbell rummaged desperately through the box. For some reason her nose wouldn't stop bleeding and she was sure it was a lack of Magicka. Ranis watched her for a while, then said rather indifferently,

"If the box is empty you could visit one of the other guildhalls. This one won't be refilled until Ajira has some spare time. Can't see that happening anytime soon."

Winterbell staggered downstairs, holding her nose. Shoving aside some other customers she bought Ajira's last restore magicka potion. Shuddering, Winterbell held her head as the warm familiar pressure built up behind her eyes.

"You should look for work at another guildhall," suggested Ajira, "I won't have any more duties for you until I pass these exams and get promoted."

That evening Marayn worked late, the only other sound was faint snores coming from underneath Ajira's desk. The Kaijit's paranoia was such that she had moved her blankets under there permanently. Suddenly there was a loud 'POP' and Marayn nearly dropped his quill in surprise. Frowning, he went to investigate.

He found Winterbell at her desk, sucking on her fingers and glaring at a modest copper amulet that sat innocently on the table in front of her. It wasn't until he crushed some gem shards under his shoe that he realized what had happened. When the gem had exploded it had sliced Winterbell's fingers open. She absentmindedly dipped them into a healing potion that she had poured into a dish for that very purpose, and looked up at Marayn inquiringly.  
"So _that's_ how it's done." He said, eyeing the pile of trinkets that glowed and shined near Winterbell's elbow.  
"It's not supposed to do that. The soul got away."  
"I hear you'll be moving on." He said, sitting at the desk and examining a gleaming ring.  
"I don't have a lot of choice. I can't make restore magicka potions yet, the ingredients are too rare and expensive."  
"Where are you going to go?"  
"Dunno."  
"I would suggest Ald'ruhn. The weather is awful, and it's crawling with uptight Redoran types, but Edwinna is a fine mage, does a lot of research on Dwemer stuff."  
"Really?"  
Winterbell looked thoughtful. Marayn shook his head, "Oh no, you're going to start raiding Dwarven ruins now as well? Don't you know that's illegal?"  
"You'll have to come up with a better reason than that." Winterbell smirked.  
"I am aware of tha-ow!" The ring sparked and he dropped it, his hand twitching with shock magic. "What kind of enchantment was that?"  
"Oh I'm sorry, they're practice, and they're not meant to be used. Sort of like calling cards, give a surprise to anyone who fiddles with them." Winterbell shoved the bowl of healing potion in his direction.  
"You really are a nasty person, you know that?"  
"I do my best."

The next day Winterbell packed up her weapons, and tidied away her alchemical apparatus. Ajira wished her luck, and Masaline told her to have fun. Sharn reminded her to think of her friends if she should find anything 'unusual and interesting' and Marayn saw her off with a sardonic smile.

Masaline's magic swirled around Winterbell, then the world seemed to lurch sideways, and Winterbell found herself in the Ald'ruhn Mage's Guild. Inside it was quiet and cool, and Winterbell had the impression that the walls were very thick. The guild guide was an Imperial woman with hair a rather startling shade of purple. She directed Winterbell to Edwinna with a sincere "Welcome to Ald'ruhn". Winterbell wondered idly if there was some kind of cheerfulness test that you had to take before they let you become a guild guide as she wandered down a flight of steps.

Edwinna was a sharp, efficient looking Breton, who greeted Winterbell perfunctorily and told her that if she wanted to make herself useful to find a copy of "Chronicles of Nchuleft". Winterbell didn't have the foggiest idea where to start looking for the tome, and instead went in search of the supply box.

She was gratified to learn that this Mage's Guild had private rooms, and she installed herself in one temporarily. There was even a complimentary 'Guide to Ald'ruhn' which Winterbell read with interest. The supply box was guarded by a rather irritating Breton who, while friendly enough, set Winterbell's teeth on edge.

Her magicka replenished, Winterbell went out to explore Ald'ruhn. And was practically knocked off her feet by the wind. Hot, stinging sand was blown into her face and hair. Winterbell noticed that the Redoran guards had nice enclosed helmets to protect them from the wind but everyone else battled around with their hands over their eyes.

"Dren sure wasn't kidding about the weather," Winterbell thought, "maybe I should have gone to Sadrith Mora instead, even the Telvanni can't be worse than this."

Winterbell soon decided that she didn't like Ald'ruhn. The Redorans were not her sort of people at all, and she tended to get lost in the huge manors and shops under Skar. All the buildings looked the same and there was no natural light inside them, even when the sky was clear.  
  
She was soon pointed in the direction of Jobasha's Rare Books in Vivec, as none of the local booksellers had "Chronicles of Nchuleft". Winterbell went back to the guild guide.  
  
Winterbell was in Vivec only briefly, and her impression was of chaos and noise. There was a huge queue for the guild guide and Winterbell was given a rather hurried 'Welcome-to-Vivec-enjoy-your-stay' before the next traveler arrived. She battled her way through the Foreign Quarter, got insulted by an Ordinator, paid a reasonable amount for 'Chronicles' and managed a brief rummage of the Vivec Mage's Guild supply box before queuing patiently and zapping back to Ald'ruhn.  
  
Edwinna seemed pleasantly surprised that Winterbell was back so fast. Winterbell had the vague impression that the mage had expected her to go to Nchuleft itself and find a copy there. Winterbell had a rather lonely dinner at The Rat in the Pot and went to bed, hoping tomorrow would be more interesting. She wouldn't be disappointed.  
  
The next day Edwinna was found irritably waiting for a potion of detect creatures that another mage had promised her. Her patience ended, she ordered Winterbell to go to Sadrith Mora and tell an Argonian mage by the name of Skink-in-Tree's-Shade to 'get his scaly tail moving'. Once again, Winterbell traveled by guild guide.  
  
She found herself in a Mage's Guild that, if she were being polite, she would call 'cozy'. Her actual words were 'bloody tiny'. There was a faint air of being under siege; everyone was excessively polite and considerate. Winterbell found it quite unnerving after the genial and not so genial feuding of Balmora, the hushed and studious atmosphere at Ald'ruhn and the harried chaos of Vivec.  
  
Skink-in-Tree's-Shade was most apologetic and he assured Winterbell that the potion would be complete in an hour if she cared to wait. Being less than keen on spending an hour in the cramped guildhall, Winterbell declared that she'd have a look around Sadrith Mora. She was given dozens of warnings about the Telvanni, who would no doubt hex her into the ground given half a chance. Winterbell could hardly see _how_ the Telvanni could know she was in the Mage's Guild, and it was with a sense of relief that she stepped out into the dazzling late-summer sunshine.  
  
Sadrith Mora never let you forget you were on an island. The air was redolent with the smell of the sea, and the sound of the waves pounding the southern cliffs. There were squalls far out over the eastern horizon, and a strong sea breeze ruffled Winterbell's hair and tugged on her robe. She strolled away from Wolverine Hall, and stared in amazement at the town before her.  
  
The buildings were alive. Winterbell could not work out if they were mushroom or plant or some strange combination of the two. Her eyes wide, she walked up and placed her hands on the cool green walls. Eventually a gruff Telvanni guard told her to move along, and she did so, still trying to look at everything at once. Winterbell went window shopping, more to get a look at the inside of the Telvanni houses that to actually buy anything. Winterbell did eventually purchase some frost salts, and the apothecary told her that if she was interested in Telvanni architecture she should see the Council House.  
  
The Council House was suspended over a fissure that the funneled the waves up so it was always surrounded by a mist of sea-spray. Very much impressed, Winterbell carefully navigated the bridge and pushed open the big stone door. A dark elf guarded the entrance to the Council Room, and rather haughtily told Winterbell that there was a visitor's gallery on the top floor.  
  
The apothecary hadn't lied. Magnificent humming crystals covered the ceiling and bathed the room in a faintly bluish light. There were few others already there, following the discussion below with interest. Winterbell couldn't make head nor tale of the argument below. It rather reminded her of Balmora, with everyone talking at once, and no one apparently listening to anyone else. Eventually the session ended, and everyone stepped off their podiums and contented themselves with insulting each other in snide whispers.  
  
Winterbell was leaving when she bumped into a well-dressed Dunmer eating some kind of sandwich. She apologized as she recognized him as one of the councilors.  
"Well _you're_ new. We don't see to many strange faces around here. Got your papers yet?"  
Winterbell had no idea what he was talking about, and decided it was safer not to lie, "Err...no, I'm just-"  
"Looking to join eh? At least you're a Dunmer, not like some of the others we've taken on of late."  
"Umm...err...right. You can't trust those Bosmer, can you?"  
"You certainly seem to be made of the right stuff. You should see the rules first though. If you steal from another Telvanni and don't get caught, they were careless and deserved to lose their belongings. If you want to fight another Telvanni and you win, then obviously your cause was more just...I think that about covers it."  
Winterbell grinned, "I _like_ those rules."  
"Well then," he shook Winterbell's hand, "welcome to Telvanni. I'm sure you'll do well. Excuse me, I must get back to the meeting."  
Winterbell stared after him, "Err...no wait...oh well. I can't see what harm it could do. Sadrith Mora is a rather pleasant place after all."  
  
Winterbell, caught up in her own cleverness at being on both sides, took the potion back to Edwinna, chuckling to herself. She got some strange looks, but paid them no mind.  
  
"This is going to be fun." She had no idea just how much.


	6. Books and the Wizards Who Love Them

Err...yeah, about the whole fluff thing. You did notice it was humor right? It was meant to be over the top...ehh...enough with the lame excuses and back the the main event. Morrowind: mysterious, beautiful, deadly, magical and yours to own for...actually, you'll never own it and I can't sell it to you, for it belongs to Bethesda. Believe it or not this story is gravitating towards a plot...really. (Is anyone besides Beloudo reading this?) – [)

Skink-In-Tree's-Shade had told Winterbell that he might have some duties for her as well. Only too happy to get out of Ald'ruhn, and after receiving orders from Edwinna to procure another book, Winterbell vacated the room at the Ald'ruhn Mages Guild and headed for Sadrith Mora.  
  
Skink had a simple escort mission for her. An Altmer mage by the name of Tenyeminwe was apparently too scared of the Telvanni to walk to the Sadrith Mora docks herself. Skink seemed to think she was overreacting a bit, and Winterbell was frankly contemptuous.  
  
Winterbell strolled breezily down to the docks, the mage following nervously behind. Dusk was falling, and the round mushroom houses began to glow softly, lit from inside. Tenyeminwe's ship was waiting for her, and she hurried on board. Winterbell sat at the docks and watched the ship pull away as the stars came out. She asked a Telvanni guard where a Telvanni hireling might find a bed, and he suggested Nelos's tower, if there was a bed spare.  
  
The low ranking Telvanni stayed at some dormitories in the lower section of Nelos's tower. None of them were particularly friendly, and Winterbell was mostly ignored. The hirelings directly under Nelos seemed rather disgruntled, and Winterbell got the impression that they weren't paid very well. Winterbell pulled some food out of her bag then fell asleep, listening to the faint creaking of the mushroom tower moving slightly in the wind.  
  
The next day Skink told her to find a copy of _Vampires in Vvardenfell II._ He didn't seem to think the job was terribly urgent, and with her time now her own, Winterbell went back to the Council House to see what kind of work the Telvanni offered.  
  
To her disappointment, it was remarkably similar to the work at the mages guild. Within half an hour Winterbell had been ordered to find muck, buy sload soap, deliver a skirt, and ask three questions of a reclusive Telvanni mage. Winterbell first ventured out of Sadrith Mora proper in search of muck.  
  
The salt-encrusted muckspunge were twice as high and about three times as wide as a man. Winterbell rolled up her sleeves and stuck her hands into the slimy mess. By mid-morning Winterbell had collected quite a few ingredients from the coastal wilderness, and smelt awful. She washed off as much muck as she could in the surf, but her robe was a mess. She went back to the tower and changed before buying the sload soap.  
  
Next on her list was delivering the skirt. The Dunmer woman who had ordered her to do this had also given her some divine intervention scrolls 'just in case' although she didn't elaborate on why they might be needed. Winterbell then spent a few unhappy hours leaning over the side of a boat to Tel Banora.  
  
Using one of her homemade potions, Winterbell flew to the top of Therana's tower. The high-ranked Telvanni was sitting on a bench and humming tunelessly to herself. Her eyes had a rather vacant look that put Winterbell on her guard. There was a male Kaijit slave in the room as well, and he asked Winterbell what her business might be.  
  
Winterbell held up the skirt, and the slave offered to put it on. Winterbell shrugged,  
"Rather you than me."  
As soon as the unfortunate slave had tried on the skirt Therana's eyes narrowed in fury, and she hurled deadly magic the Kaijit. Winterbell stifled a yell that might have drawn the madwoman's attention and scuttled out of the way. Winterbell knew a powerful mage when she saw one in action.  
  
The Kaijit soon collapsed in a pile of embers. Almost immediately Therana returned to her unnatural calm. Winterbell cautiously approached her and broached the subject of her new clothes. Therana spoke in a girlish voice that was completely unnerving coming from such an aged frame. It seemed that she did not want the skirt, and asked for a rat fur cloak instead. She seemed quite happy to talk to Winterbell, although it was clear that there was little left of what might have once been a brilliant mind.  
  
Therana's mouth was frankly amazed that Winterbell had made it back in one piece, and promoted her to Oathwoman. After her experience with Therana, Winterbell was now much more cautious about approaching aged Telvanni mages, but nevertheless she traveled to Gnisis, to seek out Baladas Demnevanni.  
  
Gnisis was little more than a garrison and temple built around the egg mine, built on a windy spot on the northern cliffs of Vvardenfell. Winterbell had no trouble getting directions to Baladas's Velothi dome. The locals seemed to think the Telvanni mage was dangerous, but didn't retail anything concrete on which to base their assumption. The mage had been a fixture in the small town for hundreds of years, apparently coexisting quite peacefully with the locals, as long as they didn't annoy him.  
  
Winterbell cautiously opened the door to Arvs-Drelen, she could hear the squeaking of rats, and wondered if the wizard was even home. Saving her magic in case Baladas was as unstable as Therana, Winterbell dispatched a few rats with her sword.  
  
Winterbell heard strange noises coming from the top floor of the dome. She had picked up a key from a table below labeled, rather ominously, 'Summoning Room'. Winterbell crept up the long sloping ramp the the dome proper. With a determined frown she unlocked the door and it swung open silently.  
  
Winterbell gasped, and stared in horror at the Daedra before her. It had a huge mouth full of needle sharp teeth and was over twice her size. She could see the poison dripping from its long, over-sized claws. It did not seem to have noticed her as it shook its crocodilian head. Winterbell was paralyzed with fight. If she moved it might notice her, if she didn't move it might notice her. What an idiotic way to die, she thought.  
  
"Who are you?" came a deep, gravelly, and generally unamused voice from behind her.

Winterbell squeaked in surprise and nearly unleashed her frost at the Daedra. It appeared not to notice the spark of magic that streaked past its nose, much to Winterbell's relief. Her eyes wide, the mage slowly turned her head to look behind her.  
  
The Dunmer behind her did not look amused. He had his arms folded across his chest, and his gleaming eyes were narrowed in suspicion. There was a similar aura of power around him that there was around Therana, but unlike her, this was power controlled, and probably much more dangerous. At first glance he did not look much older than Winterbell, but his eyes belied a memory that stretched back centuries.  
  
Winterbell was frankly awestruck. She blinked at him blankly for a few seconds, then a grunt from the Daedra brought her back to her senses. She turned around to face him properly, inwardly expecting a set of toxic claws in her back, and gave an awkward bow.  
"I'm Winterbell, Oathma-woman of House Telvanni, Mallam Ryon sent me to ask you some questions. If it's not too much trouble, of course. If I'm bothering you I could-"  
"Shut up." Baladas scowled, and strode past her into the summoning room. Winterbell followed close behind, casting nervous looks at the Daedra, who was currently chewing idly on a pot plant.  
"Is it-?"  
"Not unless I say so or you attack first."  
  
Baladas stalked up a flight of stairs and sat behind a large desk covered in books and writing implements. Winterbell looked around approvingly. On an alchemist's bench in the corner exotic ingredients gleamed among high quality equipment. The bookshelves lining the walls groaned under the weight of tomes with titles so interesting Winterbell itched to read them. There was also a round metal object near the bench, it looked Dwemer in design, and occasionally steam jetted from it. Winterbell was dreadfully curious, but prudently kept her distance from the hissing ball.  
  
Baladas eyed his uninvited guest with a rather bored expression, "When you are quite finished gawking."  
Winterbell flushed and practically snapped to attention.  
"So. When the Archmagister wishes to ask a question of one of the oldest and most respected wizards on the island he asks his mouth, a boy of merely forty years, and _he_ asks you, not only a raw recruit, but an outlander as well. Such courtesy the Archmagister has, don't you think?"  
Winterbell stayed silent.  
"Of course, I am obliged to answer, he is my superior after all, but does he think that I will tell him anything useful?" He grinned toothily. "I suppose Mallam doesn't care, just as long as letter of the order is followed, if not the spirit. Such a pompous young man."  
Even though she had only spoken to him once, Winterbell silently agreed. As if he could read her mind, Baladas' expression became a little less mocking,  
"And who might you be then? Not attached to a councilor, and yet receiving minor promotion, do you take orders from anyone?"  
"I seem to have gotten myself a position as Telvanni errand boy." Winterbell suddenly had an idea. "Do _you_ have any duties for me?"  
"How kind of you to ask," he replied with gentle sarcasm. "As a matter of fact I do have some errands for you to run for me. I need some books."  
"Just great, more books." Winterbell muttered.  
"Did you say something?"  
"No. Nothing."  
"Thought not. I need a copy of _Chronicles of Nchuleft_, _Nchunak's Fire and Faith_ and _Antecedents of Dwemer Law_. A nice easy errand to get you started."  
"But, I've already delivered the only copy of _Chronicles_ for sale in Vivec."  
"Not my problem, but you could always visit Nchuleft itself." He suggested with a vaguely malicious cheerfulness.  
  
Baladas seemed to assume that the conversation was over, and Winterbell didn't feel like pushing the issue of Mallam's questions just yet. "Maybe he'll be in a better mood once I get him his precious books." Winterbell thought. Her brief moment of humility over, Winterbell swept regally past the Daedra without giving it a second glance.  
  
"It's not a through ticket. You'll have to change at Ald'ruhn."  
"Fine, I don't care."  
Winterbell sat at the back of the stilt strider and watched the scenery go by, grinning gleefully every time the strider brought down a cliff racer with it's proboscus and wondering idly how things were going in Balmora without her.  
  
As it turned out, things were eerily peaceful. Ajira was glad to see her, but was rather distracted. With the alchemy and enchanting exams drawing perilously close the Kaijit had neither the time nor the energy to fight with her rival. Ranis greeted her politely, but seemed much less involved with things now that Galbedir and Ajira weren't engaging in open warfare.  
  
Winterbell unpacked her latest bagful of ingredients as Estirdalin filled her in on all the gossip she'd missed out on. Winterbell tuned her out, thinking instead about what kinds of potions she could make next. Her workbench tidy and her ingredients stowed safely, Winterbell stretched, wincing as her back clicked in a dozen places.  
"Hey, where did Dren go?"  
Estirdalin rolled her eyes, "As I just _told_ you, he's in Ebonheart, visiting his brother. He didn't seem terribly happy to go, I gather he doesn't like the Duke much."  
"Give him my condolences when he returns then."  
"You're leaving already?"  
Winterbell gave a funny little smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going far."  
"What are you planning on doing now?" Estirdalin looked slightly worried.  
"Don't worry, it's nothing legal."  
Sharn gave a bark of approving laughter from over at her bench. Winterbell lowered her voice, "Does she listen in to _every_ conversation around here?"


	7. Getting Your Hands Dirty

Morrowind is Bethesda's. Maybe if I say it enough I'll come to believe it. I'd be happy to sell Winterbell for a copy of _Fable_ (that game looks good people, get excited). – [)

With more than enough potions in her bag, Winterbell felt the need to go exploring again. Wandering around talking to people and buying books was all very well, but the pressure behind her eyes had been stagnant for too long. Winterbell felt the magicka singing in her blood, and felt the desire to unleash it. Her interest in the Dwemer piqued by the tantalizing glimpse of Baladas's research, Winterbell made the short trek to the Dwemer bridge, near Arkgnthand.  
  
Her questioning of the Balmora locals had revealed that the ruin was now a smuggler's haunt. Winterbell decided to approach the bridge with caution. Her knees protesting, the aging Dunmer climbed up onto some rocks overlooking the bridge. Squinting into the ash haze, Winterbell made out a lone figure standing on the bridge, apparently guarding a cart with some barrels.  
  
Winterbell decided not to bother asking questions. This far from any guards or concerned citizenry, she felt that certain courtesies need not be observed. Winterbell drew her bow, and squinted along the arrow. The bowstring made a satisfying singing sound as the missile was launched, but her aim was off, and the steel shaft shattered on the Dwarven metal at the figure's feet.  
  
Winterbell heard an attack cry, echoing weirdly off the walls of the valley, and a fireball sailed over her head. She bared her teeth in a gleefully malicious smile. "Use magic on me will you? I'll show you how to use magic!"  
  
Winterbell slid down off the rock, skinning her hands in her haste. Her feet had barely touched flat ground when she hurled icy magical shards at the smuggler. There was a satisfying yell, and another fireball sailed past. The opposing wizard was running full tilt at the dark elf, a wickedly edged axe in his hands. Winterbell sent off two more icy blasts, and the smuggler, now revealed to be white-haired Imperial, stumbled. He put his axe away unexpectedly, and tried to cast another spell. Winterbell recognized the hand movements for the school of conjuration. She was fairly sure that getting caught between two opponents in a melee battle would not be a good idea. Luckily for her, the Imperial's spell seemed to have failed. Winterbell didn't give him the chance to try again.  
  
Breathing heavily, and light-headed from adrenalin, Winterbell stepped over the corpse and continued across the bridge. Out of the haze materialized the ruin, majestic still, though its glory days were long gone. Its towering spires were eerily silent, save for the wind whistling mournfully though the slitted windows, and the occasional cry of a distant cliff racer.  
  
Winterbell huffed as she struggled up the loose ash towards the ruin. She rounded a stone building to see a metal spike tower over her, its needle-like tip least sixty feet over her head. Winterbell walked up to its base and put her fingers to the cold metal. It had been strangely unaffected by the harsh weather, and Winterbell was silent for a moment, awed by the extent of her own ignorance. More determined than ever, Winterbell turned a crank, recently oiled by the smugglers, and the massive stone doors swung open.  
  
Boss Crito was an unpleasant man in an unpleasant mood. Snowy seemed to have vanished, and that irritating Breton kid, Crito could never remember his name, was babbling something about glowing red eyes.  
"Half the elves in our team have glowing red eyes," he snarled, "nothing from the lower levels is coming to get you. The doors are trapped and locked and I can't see those metal monsters using a key."  
"Where...where is everybody then?"  
"That's what I'd like to know." Crito seized a torch, and marched off, "Follow me."  
  
Crito saw an unfamiliar figure rummaging around in one of the steel kegs. He raised his axe, and tried to sneak up on the intruder. Winterbell spun around, her eyes glowing in the dark. Crito looked surprised,  
"A Dunmer grandmother?"  
Winterbell snarled, and Crito got a face full of frost. The smuggler boss did not hesitate, he brought his axe down on the mage's slight frame. Winterbell gasped in pain as with a sickening snap a couple of her ribs gave way. Winterbell fell to her knees as Crito wrenched his axe out of her side. He swung his axe again, this time on her head.  
  
Winterbell flung herself sideways, and raised her hand to grab the blade. Blood spurted as tendons in her hand severed, but Winterbell looked triumphant still. Her hand began to smoulder. Crito let out a horrible scream, his whole arm twitching violently as lightning crackled around the pair. Like a tree Crito fell, still twitching and sparking horribly as his huge frame crashed to the ground.  
  
Winterbell was still bleeding all over the floor, but she made no move to heal herself. She fixed her molten glare on the young Breton, who had spent the battle looking on with a horrified expression. He flinched as she gave him a rictus-like grin,  
"Would you like a go as well?"  
He shook his head violently, and took off at a run, his shoes slapping on the stone floor. Winterbell grimaced as another spell knitted her bones and wove her arteries. Winterbell staggered to her feet, and looked around at the carnage. "Grandmother indeed," she snorted indignantly, "I'm not _that_ old!"  
  
A couple potions and a few hours of exploring later, Winterbell sat chewing thoughtfully on some of the smuggler's stores, a small cube of Dwemer alloy sitting on the table in front of her. It was covered in fine engravings, and was made of two pieces, fitted together so cleverly there was barely a crack between them. Winterbell turned the box over and over in her hands, studying the lines and markings closely.  
  
Hours passed unnoticed as Winterbell discovered layers within layers to the puzzle, the cube itself still untampered with. Finally, Winterbell placed the box down on the table, gently squeezed two corners, and pulled carefully. With a quiet 'snick' the box fell apart, the intricacy of its internal mechanism laid bare. Within the box was a small roll of paper. Winterbell carefully stowed the paper in a small waterproof section of her bag, and, just as carefully, fitted the two halves of the box back together.

Laden down with Dwemer goods, Winterbell used a scroll to get back to Balmora. She had examined the doors to the lower levels of the ruin, but the locks were beyond her. Despite trade in Dwemer goods being technically illegal, Winterbell had no trouble getting rid of the weapons and armour she had collected. It seemed Dwemer goods were in high demand, for as she sold the little cube and a large number of coins at the local pawnbrokers a burly Redguard hovered over her shoulder, his eagerness, much to Winterbells delight, pushing the price up.  
  
Winterbell strolled back to the Mage's Guild, her purse heavy with gold. Ranis was, as usual, busy, but she did greet Winterbell with a "I'll talk to you later," and a significant look. Winterbell wondered, with momentary panic, whether or not Ranis knew about her membership of Telvanni, but dismissed it as unlikely.  
"You're back!" Winterbell raised her eyebrows at the enthusiasm of the greeting, but replied cordially enough,  
"_You're_ back as well I see."  
"Nice robe, is it new?" Marayan grinned at her. With a faint smile Winterbell ignored the compliment and began her ritual of emptying out her bag onto the table.  
  
Marayan did not seem to be in the mood to return to work, instead wandering over to examine the goods Winterbell was sorting. He picked up a Dwemer coin with a knowing look,  
"I knew you'd be knee-deep in Dwemer ruins, maybe I should have referred you to Sadrith Mora."  
"I'll have you know I'm working for Skink as well, thank you." Winterbell made a grab for the coin, but Marayan held it away from her. Winterbell was not amused. She narrowed her eyes and magicka began to sparkle around her hands. "Give it back. Now." She held out her hand. Marayan raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, and made to give back the coin.  
  
Suddenly his eyes widened, and he seized Winterbell's hand, "What happened to you?" he asked in a horrified voice. The majority of Winterbell's palm was fresh, angry scar tissue, and had the strange, fluid texture of flesh healed hastily by magic. Winterbell pulled her hand back firmly,  
"I'm not the only person who visits Dwemer ruins. Besides, if you think that's bad you should see my ribcage."  
Marayan blinked at her for a few seconds then collected himself, "You're not well, should shouldn't be doing this sort of thing. There are much safer ways of making money-"  
"I don't do it to make money!" Winterbell snarled at him, then with an icy, "Excuse me." She walked upstairs to see Ranis. Ajria peered curiously through the doorway; Marayan shrugged self-consciously and dropped the coin on Winterbell's desk.  
  
"Ah Winterbell," Ranis practically oozed sarcasm, "if your, doubtlessly vital, business allows you the time, would you be so good as to do some duties for me?"  
Winterbell was well aware that she was not being offered a choice, and listened carefully to Ranis's instructions. She was being sent into the ash-wilds to persuade a mage to join the Guild, and another to pay her dues. She wasn't to take no for an answer. If Ranis hadn't been so insistent on getting her money, Winterbell might have wondered if it wasn't a plot to get her lost in Vvardenfell's wild interior.  
  
The journey to Sulipud was long, uncomfortable and dangerous. After about a week of trekking across ash and lava plains Winterbell was in a filthy temper. She was quite sure she wouldn't get lost, however, for to return to civilization all she had to do was follow the trail of fried cliff-racers.  
  
Llarar Bereloth had a surprisingly well-staffed Velothi dome in the middle of nowhere. Winterbell forced her way up to see the mage by a combination of intimidation and bribery. Llarar was less than happy to see her, but to her relief he didn't start throwing fireballs.  
  
Llarar was quite sure that he didn't wish to join the Mage's Guild, and told Winterbell so in no uncertain terms. Winterbell remembered all too clearly what Ranis's orders were, but with half the mage's household looking on, Winterbell did not feel it prudent to wade into a fight. A sly grin stole across Winterbell's face, some energy returned to her travel-weary frame.  
"Master Bereloth," she began, pacing in front of him like some predatory cat, "I've been informed that you used to be a member of House Telvanni." Llarar didn't deny it, he merely waited for Winterbell to continue. "I wonder, does House Telvanni know that you're an ex-member? Perhaps I should make sure all your paperwork has been completed."  
Llarar looked worried, but he tried to argue, "How can you possibly get me in trouble with House Telvanni? You're Mage's Guild."  
"Can you afford to take the chance that I can?"  
The mage accepted his defeat gracefully, and promised that he'd join the Guild when he was next in Balmora. Winterbell couldn't help feeling slightly sorry for him; it appeared he'd been hard done by by both factions.  
  
The next mage on Winterbell's list was much less polite. Working out of what Winterbell guessed was a necromancer's cave Manwe was practically insulting. Winterbell eyed the middle-aged Breton with a smile that was close to a snarl, "You do know that if you don't pay I'll be obliged to kill you."  
"I'd like to see you try," Manwe sneered, "I'm surprised you managed to drag your old bones all the way out here without dieing."  
Winterbell suddenly became very calm and composed, "That should tell you not to underestimate me." She said quietly. Then she attacked.  
  
Magicka crackled between the dueling pair. The Breton had her natural immunities, but Winterbell kept up the barrage. Her magicka exhausted, Manwe raised her fists as a last defence, "Where does it keep coming from?" was the last sentence she ever uttered. Winterbell stood triumphantly over her corpse,  
"You know, I'm really not sure myself." She answered.  
  
A damp wind blew from deeper inside the cave, bringing faint sounds of conversation and industry. Winterbell's mouth quirked. "Necromancers. Such a terrible, terrible blight on this island. I guess there's only one course of action a concerned citizen can take."


	8. A Home at Last

Morrowind is the property of Bethesda Softworks. That is all. – D

It was cold and damp and dark. The smell of ozone lingered in the air, masking a darker, sweet, metallic odour. Winterbell watched some red stars pulse in the darkness, wondering vaguely where she was. She felt a nagging sense of disquiet, but was tired, and didn't want to think about it.

Winterbell blinked, and suddenly the stars swam into focus, revealing themselves to be the dying embers of a fire. With a start, Winterbell remembered where she was and sat up quickly. She then wished she hadn't. The pressure behind her eyes made her head ache fiercely, and her body was protesting under the burden of wounds, old and new, healed my magic.

Winterbell staggered to her feet and kicked the embers back into some semblance of a blaze. In the flickering light Winterbell surveyed the destruction she had wrought.

The necromancers' cave was now a slaughterhouse. Magicka does some interesting things to flesh and bone as it destroys them, but Winterbell did not feel she needed to examine the phenomenon any more closely. If fact, she felt rather sickened by the whole thing, not least her remembered glee in destruction at the battle's height.

Winterbell collected all the intact valuables that she could carry. As she vacated the cave, she propped the door open with a stone, so the nix and alits could take care of disposing of the corpses.

Weighed down with guilt, Winterbell did not feel she could return to civilization. Instead she started walking, numbly, in no particular direction. The sky began to darken prematurely; Winterbell paid it no mind, her energy concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

It was mid afternoon when Winterbell began to notice the swirls and eddies of ash. Looking up, she saw that the eastern sky was the colour of a bruise, and she decided to seek shelter. The wind had whipped itself up into a series of violent gusts that nearly knocked the old mage off her feet by the time Winterbell spotted the door. Like one returning to their true hearth and home Winterbell pushed on the tomb entrance gratefully.

Inside was the usual assortment of undead and minor daedra, Winterbell had no trouble dealing with them, and, when the last had been vanquished, she sank down gratefully beside an urn.

Winterbell looked at the urn, and made herself more comfortable against the cool rock wall. Within the tomb there was silence, a total sanctuary from the ranging gale outside. Winterbell pulled out some corkbulb, and began to gnaw on it.

"So, why are you on the floor then?" she asked the urn conversationally. "Did you fall off? Or weren't you important enough for a stand? I don't suppose it matters much to you anymore."

Winterbell pulled out a spare robe from her bag and wrapped it around herself like a blanket, "I don't think it would bother me much. In fact, I don't think I'd mind if I wasn't even cremated. A curled up little skeleton wouldn't be such a bad end, really."

"I have to consider what I really want. Everything I thought I wanted all sort of happened, and don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. I just never thought I'd enjoy it so much. Killing people; mages. I proved that I was better than all of them. They weren't quite the people I wanted to prove it to; maybe someday I'll go back and kill them. I don't know what I want anymore, I've got here...now what do I do?"

Winterbell rambled sleepily for quite some time, about the battle with the necromancers, about her past, about her magic, and about a damp little town that she was beginning to regard as her home.

"And the point is, if they are, we are, friends, what do I owe them? Nothing, that's what, I didn't _ask_ for friends. Then again, I should owe them something...made it all happen, they did. Except for Athrys, she's a bitch. Someday she'll get it, you know...not from me, at least...well, maybe not...I'm so tired. Maybe I'll sleep...Father..."

When Winterbell awoke the next morning, she did not speak to the urn again. She didn't loot the tomb either. Instead she took an emerald from her pouch, and placed it on the urn with something akin to reverence.

A scroll later and she was in the temple courtyard across from the bustling slave market of Molag Mar. Winterbell eyed off some of the goods with repugnance. Like a majority of mages, she held that summoned creatures were far more useful than the scrawny beasts on sale.

Winterbell's first priority, now that she was here, was to leave as soon as possible. A short voyage over relatively calm seas later found Winterbell back in Vivec. Winterbell had never been outside the Foreign Quarter, and she spent a few hours wandering the city, resolutely ignoring the numerous street vendors.

Remembering her duties she spent some time browsing Jobasha's Rare Books, and dutifully stole a tome from a high elf in the Vivec Mage's Guild for Edwinna. Winterbell also met Trebonius.

Archmage Trebonius was a giant of a man, he looked very impressive in his fine robes, but Winterbell could not for the life of her work out how exactly he had become Archmage. Part of the problem was that he didn't seem terribly clear on it himself. In fact, he wasn't terribly clear on anything. Rather than the outright insanity of Therena, Trebonius's madness was hidden, merely lurking around the edges of his speech.

His staff seemed to tolerate his eccentricities, for the most part. Winterbell listened with amusement to their accounts of the various tasks that they had been set. Winterbell decided that, at the top at least, there was very little difference between the Guild and the Telvanni; high-level magic seemed to warp all minds alike.

Winterbell asked the peculiar mage if there were any duties that she might do, more out of curiosity rather than any genuine desire to be helpful. He told her to solve the mystery of the disappearance of the Dwarves. He had no idea how Winterbell should go about this, but seemed confident that she'd pop out to the nearest ruin and solve the problem in no time.

Winterbell told the other mages of her quest with a roll of her eyes, but as she lined up for the Guild Guide back to Balmora she couldn't help but go over all that she knew about the Dwemer. She was soon standing surrounded by all her bags and packs, her nose buried in _Antecedents of Dwemer Law_ and the light of purpose burning in her eyes.

Winterbell arrived back in Balmora around lunchtime. Ranis was pleased to see her, and was impressed when she reported the death of Manwe. Winterbell was given some restore magica potions and a promotion as a reward. Ranis smiled rather maliciously and told Winterbell to hang around if she wanted any more duties. Winterbell talked vaguely about duties from other mages, not wishing to receive another of Ranis's assignments just yet.  
  
Winterbell had lunch with Estirdalin among her latest haul of ingredients and other goods. Winterbell gazed at her piles of books, scrolls, potions, clothes and soul gems rather guiltily.  
"I am taking up rather a lot of space, aren't I?"  
"Oh, don't worry about it, we hardly ever use this area anyway. It's _meant_ for traveling wizards, and you're the only one we've had for a while."  
"But it does look rather untidy. Not professional, if you see what I mean."  
"Perhaps." Estirdalin conceded.  
"Where do you live?" Winterbell asked curiously. Estirdalin looked surprised,  
"Me? I have a room at the Southwall. It's not the classiest, but it's clean and cheap."  
"Ajira's the only one who stays here full time right?"  
"Yes. Sharn lives in a townhouse with her cousin across the river, and Ranis has a house somewhere. We think she's hidden it magically, because no one's ever seen it."  
"Paranoid much?"  
Estirdalin giggled, "Just a bit, I think. I gather she has a fair few enemies. Where was I? Oh yes, Galbedir lives with her husband, he's a smith you know, and Masaline has an apartment in Vivec."  
"_Vivec_?"  
"Apparently she inherited it and doesn't want to give it up. She commutes back each night. Marayan stays at the Eight Plates, _he_ can afford it, I guess."  
"Hmm...I really should move out. But I don't want to spend that much gold."  
"Well, there's no rush. You know you're welcome to stay here as long as you like."  
  
Winterbell spent the afternoon selling her goods and getting her weapons fixed. She was pleasantly surprised to learn that Dorisa Darvel had copies of _Chronicles_ and _Nchunak's Fire and Faith_. Winterbell decided to catch up on her reading before handing the books over.  
  
It was early evening when Winterbell's potion making was interrupted by a rather subdued Dunmer. Marayan apologized for annoying her previously, and seemed about to launch into an explanation. He visibly restrained himself however, and changed the subject,  
"I hear your thinking of moving out of the Guildhall."  
"Is it possible to sneeze in this place without everyone knowing about it?"  
"No." Marayan grinned. "Anyway, I do have a reason for interrupting your work. If you want to rent a house cheaply, talk to Nileno at the Hlaalu Council Manor. She owns a string of properties on the other side of the river. Tell her I sent you and you'll get a good deal."  
"How good a deal?"  
"If you offer her enough right off, she'll give you the deed. Except that it returns to her upon your death, of course."  
"Of course." Winterbell echoed. Suddenly her eyes narrowed in suspicion, "If they're so good, why don't you live in one?"  
"Because I can afford not to. Besides," he smiled sheepishly, "I don't like cooking and cleaning."  
"Hrumph!" Sharn wandered past, her arms full of racer plumes, "Typical male!" She snorted.  
Winterbell laughed. Marayan watched her, a strange smile on his face. Suddenly he bent down and said in her ear,  
"So you can laugh after all. I was beginning to wonder."  
Winterbell started, and swatted him away with an mock-glare, "Go away! I'm trying to work here!"  
"I'm going, I'm going. Just be careful, you're starting to sound like Sharn."  
"And just what is wrong with that?" the alchemist in question folded her arms with a steely glare. Marayan backed away from the Orc,  
"Nothing, nothing. This 'typical male' might go home before he's torn apart by irate females."  
"Yeah, shove off!" Estirdalin called lightheartedly. She wandered over to Winterbell, "Are you sure you want to move out? Look at what you'll miss out on."  
"But think of all the privacy I'll gain."  
"There is that."  
  
Nileno was very businesslike. She ran Winterbell quickly through a short list of available properties. Houses next to the river cost more, as did those with more than one floor. Winterbell noticed one was a lot cheaper than the others.  
"What's wrong with that one?"  
"There is nothing wrong with it. I'm just having some trouble selling it because of the previous owner."  
"Who was he?"  
"No one is quite sure. We believe he was an assassin. We do know that he got on the wrong side of the Morang Tong."  
"How?"  
"They killed him. Poison. And now everyone is waiting for his vengeful assassin-ghost to show up. Superstitious nonsense. We even had the temple bless the place."  
Winterbell grinned. "Even if his ghost did show up, I don't think it would bother me for long. How much?"  
"Per week? 15 gold. If you want to buy it it will be 1400 gold. The deed-"  
"Goes back to you when I die, I know."  
"Or if you leave the island."  
"I'll pay the 1400"  
"It's a pleasure doing business with you. Now if you just sign here...and here..."  
  
Winterbell wandered back the the Guildhall, the deed and the key to her new house safely stowed in her waterproof bag.  
"How did it go?" Masaline asked.  
"I got the place."  
"Well done! Are you going to decorate it?"  
"What? No! I have better things to do with my money."  
"I decorated my place. Shades of green and brown. I'm still looking for matching curtains though."  
"Right." Winterbell's eyes were beginning to glaze over. She was rescued by Ajira and Estirdalin, who asked her about her new place.  
"Ooh. It's the place where that assassin was killed. I wonder if it's cursed?" Masaline seemed entirely too thrilled at the idea. Estirdalin rolled her eyes,  
"If it's cursed we'll just un-curse it. Who wants to live in a cursed house?"  
"I just thought...it might be fun."  
Estirdalin asked why it might be fun. Winterbell didn't hear the explanation, instead talking to Ajira about setting up ingredient storage.  
"Hey! Did it work out?" Marayan called, noticing the discussion. Winterbell smiled,  
"It worked out well. Thank you."  
Marayan bowed formally, "It was my pleasure."


	9. Allied and Befriended

Morrowind belongs to Bethesda. Must...not...be..distracted by shiny new fandom...arrrgh! Fear not, gentle reader, this story shall continue regardless. – )

Balmora had not had a deluge for two whole weeks, so of course one was overdue. Winterbell decided that transporting her belongings would be an arduous task without the added problem of keeping them dry, so she spent the next week curled up in bed, herbal tea at her elbow, taking copious notes from various books on the Dwemer and letting her injuries heal properly.  
  
Ranis wandered down to ask why she had decided to take a holiday when there were duties to be done. Winterbell looked up innocently from the piles of parchment that littered her bed and gesticulated with an ink-splattered hand,  
"But I _am_ doing my duties. Archmage Trebonius told me to solve the mystery of the disappearance of the Dwarves."  
Ranis didn't have an answer to that, so she merely scowled and wandered off to remind Ajira that the supply box needed filling.  
"You're actually going to try and complete one of the Archmage's tasks?" Masaline asked in an awestruck voice. Upon receiving the affirmative, she informed Winterbell that no one had attempted, let alone completed, such a feat for thirty years.  
"It _might_ be possible to solve the mystery," Estirdalin mused, "but you'd need the lifespan of a Telvanni to do it."  
"Hmmm..." Winterbell looked thoughtful.  
  
By the end of the week Winterbell had completed her note taking. The rain was still falling steadily, and there was talk of the river rising. Winterbell was most annoyed that she had a perfectly good house but couldn't move anything over to it. Declaring that she could no longer justify staying in bed; Winterbell collected up her books, tidied away her notes, and asked Masaline to transport her to Sadrith Mora.  
  
Winterbell paid flying visits to both Skink and Edwinna, both of whom were pleased to receive their books. She also received a bunch of new jobs from the Telvanni Mouths none of which, to her relief, put her in conflict with the Mage's Guild. Winterbell then shared a stilt strider to Gnisis with half a platoon of Imperial Guards returning from leave. By the end of the trip Winterbell could recite all ten verses of _The Guarskinner's Daughter_ and had a raging headache.  
  
The weather in Gnisis was only slightly better than the weather in Balmora. Gusts of wind drove icy needles of fine rain and Winterbell shrugged on a second robe. Darkness seemed to be falling early, the afternoon sun completely blotted out by the inky clouds that hovered over the coastal town, and Winterbell hurried to Arvs-Drelen, carefully keeping the precious books dry.  
  
In stark contrast to their earlier meeting, Baladas seemed unnervingly pleased to see Winterbell. He graciously took her coat and enquired as to her journey. Winterbell was instantly wary, and answered politely but guardedly.  
"And you got all three books. Well done." Baladas seemed genuinely happy to get the tomes, clearing a space on his overcrowded desk for them. He handed Winterbell a couple rings, claiming that he had no further use for them. Winterbell was waved into a chair, so she sat and examined her new acquisitions while Baladas tried to work out where he could fit more books on one of his overfull bookcases.  
  
"I must say, I underestimated you, Winterbell. You collected these books extremely fast. I take it you didn't have to travel to Nuchleft then?...I didn't think so. You have been to Dwemer ruins before right?"  
"I visited Arkngthand not long ago."  
"Oh yes? I've never been there; I hear it's quite large."  
"I didn't manage to get through to the lower levels, they were locked tight."  
"That's a good sign. It means treasure hunters haven't been in that far, so there may yet be something we scholars can glean from the site."  
Winterbell fidgeted, she was not comfortable with Baladas's easy, somewhat predatory geniality. She had the vague feeling that she was being laughed at.  
"Look, if you have no further duties, I really must be going, the weather is looking terrible, I should get a room-"  
"Nonsense, Winterbell. The storm is already upon us, I can't possibly send you out in it. Arvs-Drelen has several rooms you're more than welcome to use while you're in Gnisis. I can't see you being too happy about putting up at the Temple, or the barracks for that matter."  
Winterbell rose to her feet, her frame tense, "I really think I should be going, I don't wish to appear rude but-"  
"We have things to discuss, Winterbell."  
Winterbell began to walk to the door, never taking her eyes of the smiling mage. "I can't imagine what you think we have to discuss. If I have offended you or annoyed you in some way I'm sorry, but I should remind you that I'm just following orders."  
"I'm not offended, Winterbell. Whatever gave you that idea? And I should remind you that, as your superior, I could order you to sit down again." Baladas, who had been walking toward Winterbell stopped and held up his hands, "I'm sorry, Winterbell, it was not my intention to frighten you, but once I had it was rather too amusing to stop." Winterbell looked less than pleased by this admission, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.  
"All right, I'm sorry. I just have one question, then you can go, although if I recall you have questions to ask me."  
"What's your question then?" Winterbell felt very much like a rat in a trap, but realized that there was no way she could leave if the mage didn't want her to. The Telvanni grinned, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement,  
"Just when did you join the Mage's Guild, dearest Winterbell?"

Winterbell froze, gazing at Baladas with wide eyes. He still had an amused expression on his face as he waited patiently for her reply. Winterbell racked her brains for an excuse or explanation, but couldn't come up with anything coherent, let along convincing. She turned and ran.  
  
With a swirl of magicka Baladas arrived at the doorway just before Winterbell did. She ran full tilt into the wizard and they both slammed into the opposite wall in the corridor. Winterbell could hear the wizard laughing as he grabbed her shoulders,  
"Winterbell, Winterbell! Please," She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but the old mage was surprisingly strong, "Please, calm down!" He looked her in the eye, "I'm not going to hurt you."  
Winterbell looked at him warily, "Why not?"  
"I neither need nor want to make trouble for you. I think you'll discover eventually that you've made more than enough for yourself."  
"What do you want then?"  
"I just want to discuss this...facinating turn of events. Believe me when I say nothing this interesting has happened for a couple centuries now."  
Baladas released Winterbell from his grasp, and she stepped away from the mage with a relieved sigh, "I really thought my neck was in the noose."  
"Oh it is, Winterbell, but I'm not the hangman. From what my sources tell me you're doing quite well in both factions. Someone not as easily amused as I will notice eventually." The wizard strolled past Winterbell back toward his study, "Would you care for some dinner?"  
"I guess so, thank you."  
"Don't thank me, thank the townsfolk who believe I must be placated with victuals every few weeks lest I go on some kind of hunger-fueled rampage."  
Winterbell looked disbelieving, "Really? They give you food?"  
"Well not exactly," he looked back at her with a grin, "they merely insist that I need not pay for anything. It's not my place to disappoint them."  
"That's terribly unfair."  
"That's being Telvanni for you." He said with a dramatic sigh. "Nobody understands us."  
Winterbell chuckled.  
"Of course," he added, "it might also have something to do with the fact that I send Zergonipal to do the shopping for me."  
Winterbell looked at the Daedroth, who had followed them upstairs and was sniffing hopefully at a large bowl that was sitting on the floor, "He's Zergonipal?"  
"I named him after the ruin I found him in. He's not terribly intelligent, but he can understand simple things. Like dinner, can't you boy?" The daedra grunted as Baladas dumped a bucketful of kwana cuttle and intestines into the bowl.  
"That's disgusting." Winterbell remarked, as she watched Zergonipal make a mess of the kwana innards.  
"You should see what he does to rats."  
"I'd rather not."  
  
Like most alchemists, Baladas was an excellent chef, and Winterbell was quite regretful when the meal was over, reflecting that it was not often one was cooked for by a Telvanni Master. Baladas served tea in front of the fire, and asked once again,  
"When _did_ you join the Mage's Guild then?"  
"The day after I arrived in Vvardenfell. I didn't think...well, I have, in my time, applied for quite a few wizard's guilds and the like. They were the first to accept me, so I joined."  
"That's fair enough. So why did you join Telvanni?"  
"Oh that," Winterbell waved her hand, "it was a complete accident. One minute I was an innocent tourist and the next I was Telvanni."  
Baladas threw his head back and laughed, Winterbell looked embarrassed, "Stupid reason, I know."  
"Not in the slightest, Winterbell. In fact, that's the best reason for joining I've heard yet. We must be having trouble recruiting though."  
"Or some Mouths are as senile as their Councilors."  
"Hmm, yes. And they wonder why I left."  
"You were a Councilor?"  
"Not exactly. When I was promoted to Master I was supposed to join the council, but there was some infighting, of course. Not to mention I was rather disillusioned with Telvanni politics at the time, and I wanted to continue my research. So I moved here, to comfortable, self-imposed exile. And of course, everyone thought I was out of the loop." Baladas grinned craftily, "But I think I've disproved that little notion, haven't I?"  
"How many other people know about me?"  
"No one, as far as I know. I keep my sources separate. Gnisis may be out of the way, but it does allow me to keep a discreet eye on both sides of the island. We are too isolationist, we don't see trouble until it is upon us, no offence."  
"I'm trouble now?"  
"Oh yes. You have the potential to really shake things up." he looked gleeful at the prospect, and Winterbell wondered if he didn't have some old scores to settle among the other Telvanni.  
"To change the subject," he said suddenly, "you had some questions for me from our revered Archmagister, did you not?"  
"Yes, I'd nearly forgotten. They're to do with the Dwemer."  
Baladas rubbed his hands together, "Excellent, I find the Dwemer an extremely interesting field of study, fire away."  
  
Winterbell took notes as the wizard expounded on his theories, what he believed the Dwarves had been capable of was frightening, their attempts to reverse engineer the laws of nature causing their downfall. Winterbell asked many more questions of her own, and Baladas showed her some artifacts that he had collected, expounding on their strange lack of deterioration.  
"That reminds me." Winterbell exclaimed suddenly, "I found this in Arkngthand."  
She rummaged through her bag until she found the small scrap of paper which had been hidden inside the Dwemer box.  
Baladas listened intently to the story of its discovery, the firelight turning his eyes a rich orange. He took the scrap of parchment from her, and they bent over his desk as he carefully unrolled it. Winterbell was disappointed; instead of text there were a series of lines, scored seemingly at random. Baladas, on the other hand, was pleased,  
"This is far more useful than Dwemer writing. I've decided that without some kind of key the Dwemer language is inaccessible to us. This, however, looks like some kind of code." He gazed at Winterbell knowingly, "Codes can be broken."  
He straightened and stretched, "It must be past midnight. I'm sorry, Winterbell, you must be tired from your journeying. If you like I could try and crack the code for you, unless you want to have a go yourself."  
"I'm sure you are far more likely to have luck with it than I am, please keep it."  
He smiled, "There's a second bedroom one floor down. Don't go though the locked door, that's my storeroom, and it has guards. There's also a dormitory on the ground floor, although you might want Zergonipal to clear out the rats first."  
"That's fine," Winterbell said quickly, "the second bedroom will do. Thank you for your hospitality."  
"That's quite all right, what are friends for?"  
Winterbell looked startled, "Friends?"  
"Well I'd hope so." He said gently. Winterbell felt her cheeks grow warm,  
"Of course, thank you...err, goodnight." And with that she made her escape.


	10. The Connoisseur's Corpse

Long chapter. And this arc's still got a bit more to go. Morrowind is owned by Bethesda, and they neglected to inform us of how Vvardenfellers keep time. I'm assuming the guards act as town criers. –D  
  
Baladas's mood had swung again by the next day. The mercurial wizard was now deep into his studies, and barely noticed when Winterbell left. Winterbell chalked up another one for magic warping the brain and spent some time wandering around the rocky Gnisis countryside. She found quite a few bandits and a friendly, if rather taciturn, vampire and his groupies.  
  
With her pack filled to bursting Winterbell decided to take a chance on the weather having improved, and take the strider back to Balmora. Her luck with her fellow travelers was only marginally better than last time. A large family of Argonians was on holiday. Luckily none of them got travel sick, and, for the sake of relative quiet, Winterbell got out her light amulet and amused the scaly little hatchlings by making random objects, including their parents, glow.  
  
Winterbell and the Argonians parted ways at Ald Ruhn. Winterbell handed over the cheap amulet to the grateful mother in exchange for some sload soap, and stilt-strode to Balmora.  
  
The skies were still cloudy, but patches of stoneflower blue were showing though and promising some sun to dry up the mud. Winterbell was surprised to see a Hlaalu guard at the strider docks, he seemed to be checking all passengers leaving the town quite thoroughly. Even more peculiar was the fact that no one seemed to be complaining.  
  
In fact, the local militia was out in force, for every second citizen seemed to be wearing the familiar spiked armor. There was an air of scandalized excitement in the town, although from the random snatches of conversation Winterbell could not work out what could be the cause.  
  
The Mage's Guild was an oasis of relative quiet, but even there everyone was in a state of alertness. The guard checking all travelers using the guild guide only added to the atmosphere. Ranis seemed to resent the intrusion, and kept eyeing off the guard balefully. He appeared not to notice.  
  
Winterbell glanced around, there weren't many customers, and everyone seemed to be working hard on important tasks, only to break off and gossip every two minutes. To Winterbell's faint annoyance, no one appeared to notice she was there.  
"Hey," she addressed the room at large, "who died?"  
"Ralen Hlaalo." Ajira answered.  
"Oh." Winterbell was nonplussed.  
"He was _murdered_." Masaline added excitedly. "His maid found the body, he'd been chopped up!"  
"Who is Ralen Hlaalo?"  
"It was a frightful mess apparently." The Breton appeared not to have heard Winterbell's question.  
"And now the whole town is in a uproar and it's bad for business." Ranis said indignantly, as if it were a personal insult to her to get oneself murdered.  
"Yes, but who-"  
"They called an emergency meeting at the Hlaalu Council Manor. Marayan was summoned as well." Estirdalin chipped in.  
"He'll be back soon. He can tell us what's going on."  
"He might not be free to talk about it, Masaline."  
"They don't think _we_ might have done it do they?" She seemed positively hopeful that they might.  
"Oh they'll try to pin it on a mage, no doubt." Sharn added darkly, "All someone has to do is die of swamp fever and suddenly it's necromancy this and necromancy that."  
Ajira raised an eyebrow, "People don't die from swamp fever, Sharn."  
"Err...you know what I mean."  
  
Winterbell decided not to fight her way through the town to sell her goods just yet. Everyone seemed to be in an unhelpful mood, so she attempted to enchant some items. However, with all the uproar her concentration was shot, and rather than waste any more gems she popped out briefly to buy comberry pies and a copy of the scandalously trashy _Last Dance_.  
  
Eventually the other mages left for the night and Ajira curled up under her desk. Winterbell kept reading by candlelight, deciding to push on and finish the book before getting some sleep.  
  
Marayan came back about a call before midnight looking tired and worried. He collapsed into a chair and rubbed his eyes. Winterbell closed her book and offered him some comberry pie.  
"Thanks, they sent out for food, but that was hours ago. I'd quite forgotten just how long those meetings can go for."  
"Help yourself then. Did the meeting achieve anything useful?"  
"No. I assume you know what's going on then?"  
"Everything except who Hlaalo actually was."  
"Well _that's_ easily answered." He helped himself to another slice of pie. "He was a Hlaalu noble. Old family, very respected. He owned one of the big manors up on the hill, that's where he was murdered."  
"Was he well-liked?"  
"Yeah, mostly. He was quite a connoisseur, had a cellar to rival any in Vivec and treated his subordinates well. Didn't own slaves, a typical, progressive Hlaalu noble."  
"Did you know him?"  
"Not really. I'd spoken to him of course, but I try to stay out of House business. There was some talk of him being, well, you know." Marayan inclined his head. Winterbell stared blankly.  
"Umm...no. What was he?"  
"You know, one of _those_."  
"What?" Winterbell was getting slightly exasperated.  
"Have you ever met Crassius Curio?"  
"No."  
"Oh. Well...he was a bit like Crassius. A bit...fruity." Marayan seemed to be willing Winterbell to understand.  
"Oh, so he liked the company of other men, you mean."  
"Yes. Well, only maybe." Marayan seemed rather embarassed, "Don't put it so plainly. And can we please change the subject."  
"Of course. As long as they don't think it was a jealous lover that did him in."  
"It's no more far-fetched than most of the theories floating about at the moment." Marayan sighed and looked down. "He was a good man. He didn't deserve this. And there's the maid."  
"The maid?"  
"She's a witness, if a rather hysterical one at the moment. There's a chance the murderer will come back and finish her off too."  
Winterbell stood up suddenly, a determined look on her face. "Right. So lets find this bastard and chop _him_ up."  
"Winterbell, this is a job for the guards. Or a Hlaalu Lawman. We're _mages_."  
"Yes, yes we are. And that means we might just have the brains to work out who did this. Or do you really think that the guards will catch the killer?"  
Marayan frowned. He glanced up at Winterbell who was watching him expectantly. He shook his head,  
"All right. I hope I don't regret this."  
"I'll make sure you get a decent burial."  
"Make sure you bury me in something cheap then. I don't want to be disturbed next time you want a new calcinator."  
Winterbell narrowed her eyes but didn't reply. 

The next morning Winterbell got up early and enchanted a glass sword she had collected from one of the bandits. With 'Frosted Glass' strapped to her belt and a couple restore magicka potions in her bag she felt well-equipped to take on Hlaalo's murderer.  
  
The guard resumed his post at the guild guide as the Guild opened for business. He was soon followed in by a Dunmer in black netch leather armour. He looked vaguely familiar, but Winterbell didn't recognize him until he spoke to her.  
"_Dren_? Is that you under there?"  
The Dunmer looked faintly embarrassed, "Father insisted we all learned something of the arts of war. Not that I was ever much good. I thought it might be prudent to be armored, since you're so keen on looking for trouble."  
"Good idea. If I thought I could move in the bloody stuff I'd be wearing some myself."  
"These things are so unwieldy, it feel so strange to be wearing this again. It's a ridiculous get-up for a mage."

Winterbell grinned, "You don't look that bad to me."

Marayan looked at his feet and mumbled something as Winterbell swept upstairs. "Well?" She looked back, "We've got a mystery to solve."  
  
"The maid's been taken to a secret location for her own safety. We won't be allowed to see her."  
"Do you know where she is?"  
"Yeah, in about the safest place in Balmora, but I'm not going to tell you, if that's what you think."  
Winterbell sighed, "It would make our job a lot easier if we could talk to her. Oh well, we'll have to take a look at the scene of the crime instead."  
"They've locked Hlaalu Manor up. Nileno has the key, I think, but she's not going to hand it over to me; I'm only an affiliate of the House."  
"You're good at alteration aren't you?"  
"Well yes, but-"  
"Are you in or are you out?"  
"I swear, you're going to land us both in gaol."  
"Don't worry, I have enough gold to get us off murder."  
"Why don't I feel reassured by that?"  
  
Winterbell was very blasé, almost bored, by the break and enter. Marayan found her attitude extremely irritating, for he was not used to this kind of thing. With a satisfying 'click' the balcony door unlocked in a swirl of magicka. The pair ceased their whispered bickering and stepped into the death house.  
  
Inside it was noticeably quieter than most tombs. If Ralen's ghost remained in the manor it was not revealing itself. Marayan opened a door silently, peered in, then closed it again.  
"Maid's room." He mouthed. Winterbell nodded and gestured for them to go upstairs first. Winterbell realised that there was no reason for them to be creeping about, but nevertheless did not make any noise.  
  
The master bedroom had been the scene of a violent struggle. Furniture was smashed, and there were bottles and knick-knacks on the floor. Winterbell picked up a bottle of vintage brandy, but caught Marayan's eye and put it back down again.  
"He wasn't killed here." Winterbell declared.  
"You're very sure about that."  
"He's been 'chopped up', if I've been informed correctly. I don't see any blood here. Anyway, the motive wasn't robbery, there's too much stuff lying about."  
"Downstairs then?"  
Winterbell nodded grimly.  
  
There was no doubt about where the killing had taken place. The floor and wall near one of the unfortunate noble's bottle racks was stained with what was obviously blood. Winterbell bent over the stains, and paced things out. Marayan went and examined the papers lying on Ralen's desk.  
  
Marayan found letters and House circulars, a ledger and a copy of _Wild Nords: Untamed and Uncensored_. The second drawer was empty. Marayan frowned, something was nagging at him, something that should have been there wasn't.  
  
Suddenly there was the sound of voices outside, and the scratching of a key in the lock. Winterbell and Marayan looked at each other, panic stricken, then as one made a dash for the second floor. Winterbell was almost at the door when Marayan grabbed her arm.  
"What the hell-" she mouthed angrily. Marayan put his finger to his lips and pointed downstairs. Winterbell nodded her understanding, and they listened to the group below.  
  
There were several people examining the room below, a couple of them stayed silent and were probably guards. There was a feminine voice that Winterbell recognized as Nileno's and another Dunmer woman with a husky voice that Winterbell had never heard before. Nileno spoke loud enough for the eavesdroppers to make out words,  
"...Right here. It was a frightful mess....cremated of..." The other woman spoke up,  
"The maid...man with spiked hair. It could be anyone...out of her wits."  
"I'll show you upstairs."  
Quickly and quietly Winterbell and Marayan slipped outside.  
  
Winterbell and Marayan went to The Eight Plates for lunch, although Marayan confessed that he was less than hungry. They sat in a secluded corner and discussed their findings.  
"I'd say it was done with an axe, or a claymore. Something big and messy."  
"Not exactly your typical assassin's weapon."  
"Any half-decent assassin would have killed Hlaalo in his bed, not let him run downstairs, let alone let the maid see anything."  
"Unless it was meant to serve as a warning."  
"To who? About what?"  
Marayan shook his head, "I don't know. I can't imagine Ralen doing anything to upset anyone that much."  
"And who was that other woman?"  
"Oh _her_," Marayan grinned, "that was Ethasi Rilvayn. She runs the local Morag Tong branch. A fine figure of a woman, and a dangerous one too."  
Winterbell looked rather put out, "Oh. I take it the maid is stashed with the Morang Tong then."  
"Yeah."  
"And she's said something about spiked hair."  
"It doesn't really narrow down our search. For all we know he could have had a haircut."  
"We need a _motive_. Otherwise we may as well throw our hands up and say it was some random crazy."  
"There are people who are claiming it was one of those Sixth-House cultists."  
"We have people claiming it was the Morang Tong, Cammona Tong, Dark Brotherhood, Telvanni, Twin Lamps and the Carpenters and Textile Workers Union."  
"I heard that it was an Argonian who did it."  
"Where did _that_ rumour come from?"  
Marayan scratched his head, "I'm not sure. It seems to be strangely popular though. I know for a fact that Ralen had Nine-Toes over at his house at least once, but I didn't pay it any attention. He had a lot of people over recently; he's been doing a lot of research for his..." Marayan's eyes lit up in comprehension, "next report for the House. That's it!"  
"What's it?"  
"That's what was missing. From his desk. Most Hlaalu who aren't part of the everyday business have pet projects or research. It's good politics to be seen to be doing something. Ralen always sent in huge reports. It's not as if he had anything better to do."  
Winterbell grinned triumphantly, "Now that's more like it. If Argonians don't have spiky heads I don't know who does."


	11. Elementary, My Dear Winterbell

Morrowind is owned by Bethesda. Yay for plotlike things happening. - D

Winterbell and Marayan wasted no time crossing the Odai to talk to Nine-Toes. Winterbell pointed out her new house and they asked around for the Argonian's address. Their inquiries revealed that Mr. Toes, as one client referred to him, was a skooma dealer. Marayan seemed slightly affronted when Winterbell asked if Hlaalo did sugar, and pointed out that practically everyone on this side of the river was involved in some kind of legally dubious activity, including Winterbell herself. Winterbell suggested mildly that he was overgeneralizing, but didn't deny it.  
  
Nine-Toes lived in a small house typical of those in that vicinity. Cramped, drab and cheap. As it turned out Nine-Toes was home, and while rather puzzled at the visit, did not seem worried as he ushered the mages inside.  
  
Winterbell started things off by asking the Argonian if he had known Hlaalo.  
"Oh yes," he replied, "he asked me to help him with his research for the House."  
"What kind of research?"  
"The skooma trade, naturally. Nine-Toes knows a little about these things."  
"So you're a dealer then?" Marayan said rather accusingly. The Argonian spread his hands,  
"Not so much as a profession, no. Nine-Toes leaves that sort of thing to more well-connected people and just does favours for friends."  
"I take it you've heard about his death then?" Winterbell resumed questioning.  
"I would have to be living with the Ashlanders if I didn't. It is a terrible shame, I did warn him."  
"Warn him about what?"  
"About some of the well-connected people he was investigating. They do not take kindly to these things, and no amount of family titles will intimidate them."  
"Who?"  
"Nine-Toes does not want to talk about these people. As much as he liked taking with Ralen, he does not wish to meet him again so soon."  
"You're a murder suspect, you could clear your name."  
"I would rather live with a dirty name than die with a clear one. I will tell you this however, I know they've locked the witness up, but her guards may tell you something."  
  
"It all sounds rather suspicious to me. This talk of mysterious well-connected people." Marayan was not impressed with the Argonian's explanation. Winterbell was far more lenient,  
"I'm surprised we got as much out of him as we did. I think he feels Hlaalo's death is partly his fault."  
"So you believe him?"  
"Until I hear something to disprove his story, yes."  
"Talk to the guards then. How do we know who the guards are?"  
Winterbell grinned slyly, "We have one name; Ethasi Rilvayn."  
Marayan looked horrified, "Wha, what do you expect me to do?"  
"You did imply you were at least passing acquaintances. It shouldn't be too difficult to talk to her."  
"She kills people for a living."  
"And I have been known to kill them for free. I'm not asking you to seduce her, for Sheogorath's sake, we just need some information. Tell her your famous brother has shown an interest in the case or something."  
"Seduce? Winterbell, _where_ do you come up with these ideas?"  
Marayan finally agreed to go. Winterbell winked and told him not to change out of his armour. He scowled at her.  
  
Marayan came about a couple hours later looking rather dazed. He ran his hand through is hair,  
"It's been _years_ since I've tried anything like that." He murmured. Winterbell boggled at him. He noticed her expression and flushed right to the tips of his ears. "I didn't mean like _that_!" he snapped, "I was talking about speech-craft, diplomacy. All that stuff I had to learn years ago and thought I had successfully forgotten. Especially the bit about bribes."  
Winterbell chuckled evilly, "All right, I believe you. Thousands wouldn't. Did you learn anything useful?"  
"We're looking for a Dunmer with spiky red hair, an axe and bonemould armor, according to the superior of the person looking after the witness anyway."  
"Sound like anyone you know?"  
"No."  
"Time to ask around then."  
  
By late afternoon they returned to the Eight Plates to compare notes. Winterbell wrote down a short list of possible suspects and their professions.  
"Thanelen Velas." Winterbell said with satisfaction. "I'll put money on him being our man."  
"Why?"  
"He's a Cammona Tong thug. We know that Hlaalo was researching the skooma trade, presumably with an eye to slow it down, and the Cammona Tong is very big in the trade. There's your motive."  
"The Cammona Tong wouldn't do this."  
Winterbell raised an eyebrow, "Why not? Despite their claims to be 'legitimate businessmen' it's an open secret that they're a crime syndicate."  
"They wouldn't kill a Hlaalu nobleman. They wouldn't."  
"I don't see why not. Everyone knows that the magistrate is in their pocket. They can do practically anything they want. Especially on the North side of the river."  
"No. I don't trust that Argonian. It could all be a set up."  
"_A set up_? Dren, what kind of idiot would try and set up the Cammona Tong? That's like...I don't know," Winterbell cast about for an example, "canvassing the Telvanni for donations for the Temple or something."  
"Since you're obviously not open to other suggestions." Marayan stood up to leave. Winterbell stared at him,  
"What has gotten into you? We have a witness and a motive and all you can say is 'they wouldn't do that'. I don't know what kind of firepetal tinted world you live in..." she trailed off, still staring in disbelief. Marayan set his jaw but said nothing. Winterbell threw up her hands,  
"You know what? Fine. You go back to the Mage's Guild and your robe. _I'm_ going to finish this." She stood up and stalked out.  
  
Marayan caught up with her opposite the pawnbrokers. He looked angry and just a bit frightened. Winterbell raised her eyebrows to indicate that she was listening, for now.  
"You can't go in there. It's nearly dark. It's dangerous, you don't know what they're like. They _hate_ outlanders."  
"That's a bit rich coming from you. Look, I've spent most of my life in Cyrodil. I know how these crime gangs work and what they're like. I'm not going to charge in like I'm the law. I'm just going to have a look around, that's all."  
Marayan did not look convinced, "If there's trouble-"  
"Call the guard. I don't want heroics from you. You're a mage, remember? Besides," she winked, "with a bit of luck they won't see me at all."  
Her hand clasped an amulet around her neck, and with a swirl of magicka she faded from sight.

Marayan fretted as he wandered around the Stilt-Strider docks. Every few seconds his gaze swept the Council Club entrance. Suddenly he flinched as something struck him on the back of his head. He glared and looked around, but couldn't see anyone. It wasn't until another rock flew past his ear that he saw a mostly-transparent Winterbell standing near the entrance to the armorer's.  
  
"I wasn't about to materialize in front of the club." Winterbell said, by way of explanation. She looked rather stressed and jumpy, but had made it out without being seen. She carried a large leather-bound folio under her arm. Marayan's heart sank.  
"Is that what I think it is?" He pointed to the object. Winterbell shoved it into his hands,  
"You tell me." She said. "If it is it's not completed, it's just a lot of messy notes."  
Marayan flicked through the pages, his expression grim. He sighed,  
"This is it all right. This would have been his biggest report yet."  
"So you agree that Velas is our man?"  
"Yes. I just..." he trailed off and stared out into the gathering dark.  
"Why is this bothering you so much? Do you know Velas?"  
"No. I don't know him from Vivec. I _thought_ I knew about the Cammona Tong, that's all."  
"Well, I assume you'll want to take this to Nileno. The guards can sort the rest out."  
"No!" He said vehemently, "We've got to take care of this ourselves."  
"Are you sure?" Winterbell looked at him in surprise, "He looks like a trained warrior to me."  
"You said yourself that the Magistrate is in the Cammona Tong's pocket. If we want to see justice we have to mete it out ourselves."  
Winterbell blinked at him, "Well, this is a side of you I've never seen before."  
"Besides, if we let him live, and tell the House what we know, yo- we could end up like Ralen."  
"We could be killed anyway."  
"Why are you arguing so much? I thought you liked this sort of thing."  
"I don't kill people for fun." Winterbell said coldly, "Killing people _can_ be fun, but mostly it's not. I'm concerned about you. It isn't like you to advocate violence, I want to make sure you're doing the right thing."  
"Winterbell, look, this is more complicated than you think. This should never have happened, and if it gets out..."  
"So you want to protect the Cammona Tong's reputation by killing one of it's members?"  
"Yes. I mean, no! Look, I'll explain things, I promise. They're going to notice the report is gone soon. We have to act."  
Winterbell cracked her knuckles with an anticipatory smile, "All right then. Let's do this thing."  
  
The Council Club was dark and smokey, and luckily for the mages Velas was sitting right next to the entrance. Marayan said it would be for the best if as few people as possible saw them, and Winterbell agreed. Velas was a typical thug, his arms were a mass of scars, and his nose had been broken more than once. He was still in his armor, and a Dwemer war axe was propped up against his chair. He had been drinking, but his gaze was sharp as he regarded them with obvious disdain.  
"Who are you?" He asked in a surly tone.  
"We're here for some information." Winterbell replied. Velas noticed her faint accent,  
"Outlanders are not welcome here. Get out." He said in a tone that indicated the conversation was over. Winterbell said nothing, but pulled the folio from her robe and dropped it on the table in front of Velas. He stared at it for a few moments before he recognized what it was. He reached for his axe, and yelled, "You! Thief!"  
  
Magicka was already sparking off the tips of Winterbell's fingers. Velas staggered back, his eyes stinging from the magical cold. There was a sound of commotion from downstairs, as the other patrons heeded Velas's cry.  
"I'll hold the others off, you get Velas." Winterbell ordered, as she calmly stood at the top of the stairs. She nodded in approval as Marayan pulled off a couple weakness-shock combos before casting a shield spell and drawing his shortsword.  
  
Winterbell threw down magical missiles that burst on impact, injuring everyone charging up the stairs. She stopped briefly to scull a restore magicka potion, and someone from below threw a shockball at her. Marayan turned his head in time to see the magic strike Winterbell, and watch it seem to sink into her harmlessly. He had no time to contemplate the phenomenon, however, as Velas swung his axe again. It took a good sized chunk out of Marayan's armor, and the mage staggered.  
  
Velas was looking worse for wear. His right arm kept twitching uncontrollably from the shock magic, throwing off his aim, and the cuts inflicted by Marayan's shortsword had a strange greenish look about them.  
"Help me!" He yelled hoarsly.  
  
The fighters on the stairs redoubled their efforts. Winterbell knew she couldn't hold off that many people. With a flourish she pulled a scroll from her sleeve and with a strange hiss a frost atronach rose from the floor. There was consternation from below, and shockball slammed into the huge blue creature.  
"That'll hold them off, but only for a little while." Winterbell turned to the battle behind her.  
  
Marayan had obviously let his sword skills get rather rusty; even in his weakened state Velas could avoid most of his swings. Marayan had been hit a couple times by the axe, and blood was dripping from the gashes in his leather armor. Even so, Winterbell thought that Velas was getting the worst of it. Whatever enchantment was on Marayan's sword, it was nasty. Winterbell tried to get a clear shot with her frost, but couldn't risk hitting Marayan. Practically dancing with frustration, she glanced down the stairs. There was at least one corpse under the feet of the frost atronach, but the magical creature had taken some big hits, with large chunks cut out of its chest and arms. Winterbell swore as she saw magicka swirling around it; it would not remain in this plane for long.  
  
Marayan ducked one last swing from the axe and stabbed his sword viciously. It hit Velas in the neck, and the big Dwemer's knees buckled. There was a whoosh from behind him as the frost atronach vanished in a cloud of magicka.  
"Grab the book!" He heard Winterbell yell frantically from behind him. He could hear a guard's whistle somewhere outside. He snatched the folio and turned to run. His eyes widened in surprise as he felt Winterbell wrap her arms around him.  
"What th-"  
Then the world lurched sideways.

A/N Yes, Game!Winterbell did attack Game!Marayan just to see what kinds of spells he cast. Never let it be said that I don't do my research. His sword (and armour and life outside of about three feet of floor) is completely uncannonical. -D


	12. Loose Ends

They arrived in complete darkness. Winterbell released Marayan and the mage stumbled, hissing in pain. Winterbell put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. With a snap of her fingers and a little spark of magicka a single candle flickered into life.  
  
The room smelled slightly musty, and there was a thick layer of dust coating the meagre furnishings. There was a bed frame in the corner, and some empty shelves and urns. The only other furniture was a table with two chairs, scarred and scratched with years of use. Marayan sheathed his sword and looked around, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the low light.  
"Where are we?"  
"My house, well, room." Winterbell replied, motioning for him to sit. "I dropped a mark spell as soon as I bought the place."  
Marayan collapsed into a chair, looking rather dazed. He rested his head in his hand, "That was horrible. What have I done?"  
Winterbell knelt down and held her hands above one of Marayan's wounds. Her eyebrow twitched in concentration as she cast healing spells. "You've never killed someone before?" She asked with the calm, disinterested tone of healers everywhere who want their patients to keep talking, and not look down at the gory process of being patched up.  
"Of course I have. Father made us all go out to fight bandits at some stage. I just, I do not know what the consequences of all this will be. Have you finished yet?" he glanced down irritably. Winterbell raised both her eyebrows. "Sorry." He muttered, cowed by her gaze.  
"Consider yourself lucky that I know this spell at all. My skills lie in causing damage, not repairing it. There you go, you'll live." She stood up, wincing as her back clicked in a dozen places. Marayan gingerly touched the new flesh beneath the tears in his armour. "Don't prod it!" Winterbell snapped.  
"Thank you." He said softly. He noticed her sway slightly, and worry flickered in his eyes. "Do you have any more potions?"  
"Nope." She said shortly, sinking tiredly into the other chair, "I'll be all right. I'm just a bit drained."  
  
Marayan stood and opened a window. Shouting echoed from across the river, and the more inquisitive citizens ventured out to discuss the excitement. There were sounds of celebration from the Southwall Corner Club.  
"News travels fast." Marayan observed, shutting the window down to a crack. He sighed, "I wish I'd had some more lunch."  
"You can check the urns if you like, but I'm willing to bet anything that wasn't taken away has been eaten by rats."  
"I don't need to go to those extremes just yet."  
  
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the drama unfolding across town. At one point several guards visited the Southwall, gruff exclamations of suspicion and denial floating in with the cool night air.  
"You did all right." Winterbell said finally, "Velas wasn't a pushover."  
Marayan shook his head, "I'm no warrior. You're far more skilled than I am."  
"You don't give yourself enough credit. You've got skills; they're just a bit rusty."  
"There's not much call for warrior mages around Balmora." He looked down at his hands, "It's not as if I can just up and leave." He added quietly. Winterbell didn't answer, instead running her nail along one of the scratches in the table.  
  
"I owe you an explanation for all this, don't I?"  
Winterbell looked up from her reverie, "You don't have to explain now. It's late." She said tiredly.  
"I know," he glanced around the room sombrely, "but I should tell you what I think is going on."  
"Well then, I'm listening."  
"You know of my brother, correct?"  
"The Duke, yes."

"I have another brother, Orvas. He's a Hlaalu councillor and he runs the family plantation in the Ascadian Isles."  
"Sounds idyllic."

"He and Vedam have never seen eye to eye. About anything really. Anyway, what isn't generally known is that Orvas, Orvas is the boss of the Cammona Tong."  
Winterbell blinked and sat up, "_Now_ I see." She nodded in understanding. "That's why you didn't believe the Cammona Tong would kill a Hlaalu noble."  
"I still don't believe it. No matter what Orvas thinks of Vedam, he's a _Hlaalu_. How could be betray the House in this way?"  
"The order may not have come from him."  
"I'd like to think that, I really would. But he has a very hands-on approach to running the Tong. I can't imagine any of his captains taking it upon themselves to do this thing without permission."  
"So you think he's capable of such a thing?"  
"I don't know what to think. After what Vedam said-" he pulled himself up. Winterbell regarded him steadily. "Err."  
"You don't have to tell me your family business. I now know enough to understand tonight's little adventure."  
"Honestly, and they wanted to make _me_ a councillor. I have all the diplomacy skills of a drunken netch sometimes."  
Winterbell gave a tired half-smile, "You certainly do better as a mage."  
"He helped me, you know," Marayan said in a melancholy tone, "Orvas did. Father wanted me to be a career Hlaalu, or maybe a priest. Vivec knows I couldn't have stood up to him by myself, I was too young. Orvas argued my case for me. Vedam sided with Father, as usual. I'll never forget that."  
Winterbell looked thoughtful, "You certainly owe him one for that. However," a cautionary note entered her voice, "that doesn't necessarily entail eternal gratitude."  
"You think I should turn him in as a traitor?" Marayan snarled. Winterbell flinched in surprise,  
"I certainly didn't imply that. As far as I'm concerned Velas was responsible for the death of Hlaalo, we need not take it further. I simply mean you shouldn't judge your brother by one deed alone."  
"I know, I'm sorry, Winterbell." He stood up and briefly laid one of his hands on hers, "I have to report something of this incident to Vedam. I do not look forward to it."  
Winterbell nodded, and got to her feet, "It looks like the fuss has died down. I suggest we get some sleep. We can talk to Nileno in the morning."  
"About that, I'd rather you kept my name out of it. I'd rather not have either of my brothers know what part I played in all of this. I'm sure Nileno would be discreet, but if one of my brothers asked she'd answer."  
"All right."  
  
They walked across the bridge in silence. By unspoken agreement they avoided other people. They parted ways outside the Eight Plates. Marayn smiled strangely,  
"You know, it was sort of fun, playing detective. I envy you sometimes; you have so much freedom."  
"Freedom yes. Freedom to expire in the wilderness, or be torn apart by outlaws. It's freedom to die for, all right." Winterbell answered with gentle sarcasm.  
"You seem to think it's worth it." He pointed out.  
"I haven't got anything to lose. I'll see you tomorrow, Dren." She turned and walked toward the Mage's Guild.

Winterbell went to the Council House early the next morning. She showed Nileno Hlaalo's folio and explained her actions of the previous day. As requested, she kept Marayan's name out of it. Nileno frowned a bit disapprovingly when she heard about Winterbell's break and enter, but the sheer relief that somehow the problem had resolved itself overnight meant that Winterbell was absolved of all wrongdoing against the House.  
  
"Even though you are Telvanni, you have done right by House Hlaalu, and we are grateful. The reward of one thousand gold is yours."  
Winterbell looked slightly horrified, "You know I'm in House Telvanni?"  
"Well of course we do. We keep an eye on the new recruits in both other Houses. Especially those doing as well as you are."  
"Oh. Well. Thank you for the gold." Winterbell gave an awkward bow and walked away, deep in thought.  
  
The Mage's Guild, like the entire town, was buzzing about the hit on the Cammona Tong the night before. Winterbell got some suspicious looks, but neither confirmed nor denied her part in the drama. Marayan was doing his best to act normally, his nose scraping at a copy of _Thurmacological Paradigms of Advanced Meta-Magics Vol. III_. Winterbell was by now heartily sick of the whole business and decided that the other mages needed distracting.  
  
"I'm moving to my house today." She announced, "And I'll need some help shifting stuff."  
With visible relief Marayan closed his book, "I'll help."  
"I can lend a hand." Estirdalen offered cheerfully. Ajira said she was sorry, but she should really stay and mind her goods.  
The three started packing. As soon a Masaline arrived in a cloud of magicka from Vivec she offered to help as well. The large number of helpers was more of a hindrance in the relatively small space, but it all got done somehow. When everything was stored in boxes and bags Marayan cast feather on himself and Winterbell drank a fortify strength potion with a grimace. There was an impromptu competition to see who could carry the most and the pair followed Estirdalin, who decided to walk ahead and make sure they didn't bump into anyone.  
  
Estirdalin offered to help Winterbell unpack all her things, but Winterbell grinned and said she could do it herself. Winterbell did not spend much time unpacking, instead she cast telekinesis, and soon the air was full of floating goods. She did not pay much attention to where she put things, and in no time the place was a comfortable mess.  
  
Winterbell could avoid Ranis no longer. The Guild Captain ordered Winterbell to get rid, one way or another, of an Argonian who was apparently teaching restoration without a guild licence. Winterbell accepted the orders with an extremely grim look.  
  
The Argonian was working quite openly in the Southwall Cornerclub. Winterbell approached him in a rather subdued manner, no trace of menace or aggression in her voice or eyes. The Argonian offered her a deal right away. In exchange for training Winterbell would lie to Ranis and say that the Argonian had been persuaded to stop. Winterbell smiled,  
"It's a deal then." She shook the Argonian's scaly hand, and turned to walk away.  
"What about your training?" He asked.  
"I don't need any training." Winterbell replied and walked out, leaving the Argonian scratching his head in puzzlement. Winterbell stalked back to the Guild. Ranis accepted Winterbell's assurances that the Argonian was out of business, and seemed not to notice the veiled anger in Winterbell's gaze.  
  
Winterbell didn't hang around for more orders, instead taking the next stilt strider to Gnisis. She went over what Nileno said; it seemed a fair bet that Redoran would have some idea of her allegiances as well. How long would it be before it got back to someone in the Mage's Guild, she wondered. She hoped Baladas would have some answers.  
  
For once the weather in Gnisis was good, with the sun sparkling off the river and the wind whipping playfully at the lines of washing strung between the Redoran-style houses. Winterbell saw Zergonipal sunning himself of the roof of Baladas's dome, the lizard-like daedra stretched out on warm stone.  
  
Baladas greeted Winterbell cordially and beckoned her over,  
"I've got something to show you, I think you'll find it interesting."  
"It's enormous!"  
"Yes, that was a bit of a surprise to me too. But it's definitely supposed to be like that."  
"You could use it as a weapon, I suppose."  
"Well, it might be a _bit_ delicate for that. I think you'll find its use lies elsewhere."  
"So you made it yourself?"  
"I had one of the armourers in town actually make it. I'm not much for metalwork."  
Winterbell picked up the spiky piece of metal. "You got this from that little roll of parchment?"  
"The code was quite simple, practically a plan, in fact. I think it's a key, probably for the lower levels of Arkngthand."  
Winterbell wrapped the key in an old robe so its spikes wouldn't catch on things and put it in her bag, "Thank you. I see I shall have to return to the ruin."  
"Have you ever run into Dwemer constructs before, Winterbell?"  
"Well, no."  
"Hmm, well, let me introduce you to one." The Telvanni walked over to the hissing ball that had captured Winterbell's attention on her first visit. "This is a modified construct. You won't come across any quite like this in any ruins." He gestured to the device, "Awake!" He ordered. Winterbell gasped as the device unfolded itself into a roughly humanoid form. Steam jetted from its joints as it straightened, its final height about half a foot taller than Baladas. Electricity crackled around its claw-like hand. "This is a Shock Centurion, a modified Centurion Sphere. It took me quite a few decades to get him working properly."  
Winterbell walked over to the construct, its green optic sensor focusing on her as she approached.  
"It's incredible!" She breathed, entranced. Baladas smiled proudly,  
"I don't get recognition for my work often. You can touch it if you like. Just don't act in any way threatening, it's been ordered to defend itself."  
Winterbell lightly touched the warm metal, keeping her hands well away from the smouldering claw. Eventually the machine folded back in on itself. "That's its watch mode. It folds back when nothing happens after a certain length of time."  
"It's amazing."  
"No Winterbell," Baladas smiled again, "_you're_ amazing. Fancy taking on the Tong on behalf of Hlaalu. You never cease to surprise me."  
"Can I do anything without you finding out about it?"

I didn't like this chapter much. But I can't put my finger on why exactly. Writing it in an exhausted state probably didn't help. Morrowind owned by Bethesda. Mushroom Hunter totally pwn3d by lack of sleep. The next chapter will hopefully have more interesting stuff in it. - D


	13. The Summer is Over

Morrowind is owned by Bethesda Softworks. I really will have to stop writing long enough to play the expansions sometime. - D

Baladas served tea and folded his long frame into a chair in front of the fire; his home always seemed slightly too cold, no matter what the weather outside. His demeanour was now more serious as he knitted his fingers and gazed at Winterbell intently.

"You are going to have to make some difficult decisions, Winterbell. Things have been remarkably easy for you so far, but it is only a matter of time before your...peculiar system of allegiances becomes known." Winterbell started to say something but Baladas held up his hand, "Let me continue. I am not suggesting that you try to prevent this. Delaying it would be helpful, but unless you do something as drastic as leaving the island or resigning from the Guild it is inevitable."  
"I take it I can't leave the House." Winterbell remarked dryly.  
"Of course you can't. House membership is usually familial; you can't leave your House in the way that you cannot leave your family."  
"I wouldn't say it was _that_ difficult to leave your family."  
"You may travel to the ends of the earth, but you are still your father's heir and your mother's child."  
"Humph. All right then, so I can't leave the House. I don't particularly want to anyway."  
"My point is that you will need to maintain control over the situation. You need allies, willing or not. This is especially important with regards to the Mage's Guild. If other Telvanni feel threatened by you they'll try to kill you Mage's Guild or otherwise."  
"Really? I haven't noticed any attempts on my life so far."  
Baladas smirked, "It has not gone unnoticed that you are more than welcome in my house. I have ensured this, partly to protect you and partly to unsettle certain other people. I may be mostly ignored, but I am still respected, even feared in some quarters. However, I am not a member of the council. Eventually you'll need a patron more involved in House politics. You needn't worry about that yet though."  
"How am I supposed to get people on my side?"  
"Use your head, Winterbell. Everyone has their price, and their secrets."  
"Blackmail and bribery."  
"You needn't sound so precious about it. This is what politics is really about. Offering people what they want and threatening to take away what they already have."  
Winterbell stared into her cup, "I have been...avoiding thinking about the consequences of all of this." She admitted. "The two worlds seem so separate."  
"You have been playing the fool so far. A lucky fool; but a fool nonetheless." The Telvanni regarded her thoughtfully, "What exactly do you want from all of this, Winterbell?"  
"I wish I knew. I started out surviving. Freedom, money, respect; I have all of these things now, things I could never have dreamed of having in Cyrodil. I want...I want to snap my fingers at all of them and say 'Look at me now, look what you could have had in your fancy guilds and attending your fancy schools. See how powerful, how dangerous, how wealthy I am!'" Winterbell stopped, looking rather shocked at the outburst. Baladas seemed a bit taken aback also. He blinked a couple times, and then gave one of his satisfied, dangerous smiles,  
"Resentment and anger. Sometimes you remind me of me, Winterbell. Only far more daring, and lucky." Baladas seemed to be considering something, "You know, Winterbell," his voice was low and seductive; "you could make history. Do the impossible, the unthinkable." Winterbell looked startled,  
"What? What could I do?"  
"Unite them. Lead them both. Tevanni and the Guild."  
"Me? Archmagister?"  
"I remember when Gotheren was rising in the ranks. He's nowhere near as intelligent as you, but he had the same drive, the same _energy_." Winterbell looked almost horrified at Baladas's words,  
"I couldn't...it would be impossible."  
"Well," he said abruptly, "it was just an idea. I'm always getting them, although they often don't amount to much. Concentrate on keeping yourself alive and secure."  
"I think that's more than enough to be getting on with." Winterbell said warily. She felt exposed, vulnerable. She had not intended to reveal any of her feelings to Baladas, and she was grateful that he hadn't questioned her about them.  
"Do you know anything of Ranis Athrys?" She asked suddenly, steering the conversation onto less dangerous ground. Baladas didn't seem to mind the sudden tangent,  
"Not a lot. She runs the Balmora Guild-hall. I gather she is competent but not popular. Why?"  
"She sent me to get rid of an unlicensed trainer. A fairly harmless one I might add."  
"Ah yes," Baladas smiled, "the famous Mage's Guild Monopoly. I hear we're trying again to get it overturned. Aryon was holding talks with House Hlaalu last I heard. I freely admit bias, but I do think it is an unfair law."  
"I just thought no one would bother chasing up such a minor infraction. No one in the Balmora Guild teaches restoration anyway."  
"You have put your finger on exactly why it is unfair. There are five Mage's Guild halls on the entire island. The major towns get their services, but what about places like Molag Mar, the isolated Bitter Coast towns, and even here in Gnisis? I do not believe repealing the law will advantage Telvanni that much. Telvanni towns welcome only other Telvanni, and it's legal to sell training within one's own house."  
"There are people," Winterbell stated firmly, "who cannot and will never be able to afford Guild prices."  
"Oh, yes. There's that aspect too, I suppose."  
"I do not wish to do wrong by the Guild."  
"Then don't mention the Monopoly. It's become a point of pride for the Guild now, even though if the three Houses vote against it the Guild will have no say in the matter. You have done well by the Guild so far. Keep it that way. It will work in your favour."  
"I intend to. But Athrys..."  
"Rubs you the wrong way? Might I suggest you steer clear of Gotheren then? I do not think you would get along."  
"I intend to." Winterbell said shortly, standing up and collecting her bag.  
"You intend." Baladas said softly, "Well, we'll see." 

Baladas had given Winterbell a lot to think about, and so she took her leave of him as soon as was polite. Winterbell stood in front of Arvs Drelen in the afternoon light, trying to decide where to go next. Winterbell had developed a reputation for reliability and discretion, and she was handed jobs by both factions on a regular basis. For once her age worked in her favour; mages were more likely to trust someone who appeared to be older and more experienced. After observing some of the people who came in for training to the various guild-halls, Winterbell could see why.  
  
There was a soft grunting sound, and Winterbell turned to see Zergonipal nimbly climbing down the side of the dome. His claws flexed and he bobbed his head as he approached the mage. Winterbell assumed he was being friendly. The daedra seemed far more interested in Winterbell's bag than in Winterbell herself. She let him sniff at it; all her ingredients were safely stowed in her house. He tried to chew at her netch leather documents bag, but Winterbell calmly admonished him and firmly pulled it away.  
  
Winterbell was petting the beast when she felt a prickle at the back of her neck, as if she was being watched. She continued to scratch Zergonipal's shoulder, and surreptitiously searching for the watcher out of the corner of her eye. She noticed a figure in a robe under the rock arch that marked the entrance to Gnisis. Winterbell's eyes weren't what they once were, and she blinked irritably, now certain that the figure was watching her, but unable to see who it was.  
  
It seemed to be stalemate. The watcher wasn't going to move while Winterbell was still there. Winterbell made a show of looking at the sky and yawning, and then turned to go back into the dome, clicking her fingers so Zergonipal would follow her.  
  
Winterbell left the door open a crack and peered though, Zergonipal drooling interestedly on her shoulder, the daedra presumably thinking this was some kind of game. Winterbell didn't even notice, her attention fixed solely on the sliver of light. Winterbell had lost sight of the watcher, but several minutes later an Orc in a green robe strode though Winterbell's limited view. Winterbell still couldn't identify the Orc, but when a guard greeted her Winterbell recognized her voice instantly. _Sharn_.  
  
Winterbell felt icy panic clutch her heart, and her first instinct was to run. Her second instinct was to set Zergonipal on the alchemist, and her third was to ask Baladas for help. Winterbell did none of these things, instead taking a rather shaky breath and thinking.  
"Strider to Ald'ruhn...four hours at least, assuming one's leaving now...Ald'ruhn to Balmora...instantaneous. Wait, the guild will be shut by the time she gets there. Ok, so I've got some time." Winterbell took a deep breath and shouted up the stairs, "Baladas! I'm borrowing Zergonipal for an hour or two. It's urgent!"  
"You needn't shout." Winterbell jumped as the wizard appeared next to her. He held out a bag. "The contents of this bag are nauseating, but they are guaranteed to have Zergonipal drooling on your shoes within a minute if he wanders too far away."  
"Thank you." Winterbell took the bag gingerly. She pushed open the door carefully, to make sure Sharn was out of sight, and then she clicked her fingers at Zergonipal again and the unusual pair made their way to the rock arch. Baladas watched them go with a bemused expression.  
  
Once they were under the granite overhang, Winterbell presented her bag to Zergonipal. He sniffed it as he had done before. Winterbell then led him around the area where the orc had been standing.  
"Come on," Winterbell said anxiously, "that big nose must be useful for something. She smells, all alchemists smell. Find her. Come on Zergonipal, find!"  
The big daedra blinked at her hopefully and nuzzled her bag again.  
"No, not _me_. Find the _other_ alchemist. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea." Suddenly the daedroth gave a delighted snuffling sound and bounded over a hill. Winterbell ran after him, heedless of the weeds snagging at her robe.  
  
Winterbell crested the hill to see Zergonipal bring his claws down on a nix, its mate already dead in a puddle of blood and poison. The daedroth threw his head back and gave a victorious howl before tearing into the unfortunate nix. Winterbell slapped her forehead in frustration,  
"No, we're not going nix hunting you stupid creature. You're supposed to be seeking Sharn."  
At the word 'seek' the daedroth dropped the nix and trotted back to Winterbell. He sniffed at her bag and took off again, this time in a different direction, with his snout to the ground. "Yes!" Winterbell grinned triumphantly.  
  
Winterbell was gasping for breath by the time Zergonipal finally stopped. She staggered up behind him and leaned against a tree. The daedroth had his nose to a wooden door, and was pawing at it, his poison claws leaving scars in the wood. Winterbell pulled him away and patted him, absentmindedly praising him in an undertone, her gaze fixed on the door. Eventually, glancing back once more, she decided to go back to Gnisis.  
"A bandit cave. And I was expecting a tomb. How interesting."  
  
Winterbell dropped Zergonipal off at Arvs Drelen with a recommendation that he be rewarded. Baladas was obviously curious, but recognized that Winterbell was in a hurry, and so he merely wished her luck as she cast recall.  
  
Back in Balmora, Winterbell changed out of her grass and daedroth-drool stained robe and wandered over to the Mage's Guild. As she had expected, Sharn wasn't back yet, and all was peaceful. She exchanged pleasantries with Ajira and asked exactly which house Sharn shared with her cousin, using the excuse that she wanted to borrow a book. Ajira told her without suspicion, and suggested that not everyone worked the hours that Winterbell did.  
"There's no rest for the wicked." Winterbell said over her shoulder as she walked upstairs.  
  
Sharn lived in a tall town house near the Southwall Cornerclub. Winterbell ignored the front door, and climbed some outside stairs to the door on the second floor. Alteration was not Winterbell's strong point, and she cursed under her breath as her magicka sank ineffectually into the wood. She struck the door lightly in frustration, and to her surprise it swung open. Winterbell blinked and examined the lock more closely; someone more skilled with a pick than with magic had been there before her.  
  
As stealthily as she was able, she slid into the house, blinking as she got used to the low light. Winterbell heard someone move something around on the third floor, either the thief or Sharn's cousin. Winterbell hovered indecisively for a moment, and then decided to search the bottom floor first. If the thief came downstairs she could dash out the front door.  
  
There were signs of recent packing, but Winterbell found nothing incriminating or interesting.  
"You seem a little old for this kind of work." A deep male voice rumbled behind her. Winterbell squeaked and spun around. How the Redguard had managed to sneak up behind her she had no idea. He was easily a foot taller than Winterbell and about twice as wide. His muscled frame was clad in chain mail and bonemould armour and a huge Dwemmer war hammer was slung across his back. His teeth gleamed as he smiled at the mage, "Old ladies shouldn't be bounty hunters." He said benevolently. Winterbell bit back a sharp retort, and made her voice a bit quavery,  
"I need the money, you see."  
"Dura gra-Bol is wanted for murder. You should leave those kinds of jobs to people like me." He said kindly. Triumph flickered in Winterbell's eyes, but she kept her posture submissive and her gaze downcast. "It's my duty, as a member of the Fighter's Guild to protect civilians." He continued warmly, obviously pleased to have an audience. "Of course," he sounded a bit downcast, "it seems she's gotten away. You don't have any leads on where she might be?" Before Wintebell could answer, the fighter continued, "I'll tell you what, if you come up with any information, I'll split the bounty with you." He obviously thought he was doing a favour. Winterbell looked suitably appreciative, and swore to inform the warrior should she discover anything. The Redguard appeared to be a very busy man, and he told Winterbell to take care of herself before striding out of the house. Winterbell remained to wait for Sharn.  
  
Sharn was by turns wary, accusative, threatening, disbelieving, and blustering. However, Winterbell held all the cards, and eventually the orc sullenly agreed to be Winterbell's ally. Winterbell didn't trust her, but felt her secret was secure, for now at least.  
  
The sinking sun was casting long shadows when Winterbell left Sharn's house, and although the sky was clear a biting wind whistled through the buildings and icily ruffled the surface of the Odai River. The guards were lighting their torches, and people were drawing their clothes tighter around themselves and walking just that much faster. Summer, it seemed, was over.


	14. Her Season

Morrowind is owned by Bethesda. 'Tis the season for exams and assignments, but I'll keep writing when I can. - D

That year Frostfall came early. Biting winds brought sleet to Balmora and the sea around Sadrith Mora turned a sullen grey. Ash storms and rain had turned Ald'ruhn into a quagmire, and wood had to be imported to make makeshift paths across the black mud. Winterbell always felt that Frostfall was her season, despite the fact that her bones ached more on cold mornings with each passing year.

After the business with Sharn, Winterbell did not feel as welcome in the Balmora Mage's Guild. True, Sharn had kept her word, but the Orc was noticeably chillier towards the Dunmer mage. Winterbell continued to do her duties, including some from Ranis. Her opinion of the Guild Captain dropped with each task, and Winterbell followed her orders creatively, to try and minimise any damage to the Mage's Guild reputation. A few of the other mages noticed this, and were silently approving.

Winterbell also took Baladas's advice to heart, watching her back every time she was in Sadrith Mora. There was a half-hearted attempt on her life one night in Nelo's dormitories, but Winterbell felt that it was more of a test of her powers than a genuine attack. Nevertheless, it filtered down that the Archmagister, and consequently Nelos, did not approve of Winterbell's meteoric rise in the ranks, and the tasks Gotheren's Mouth set grew increasingly more difficult and dangerous.

It was during those first bitter months of Frostfall that Winterbell met her next significant ally.

The councillor who had originally inducted Winterbell into House Telvanni was Galos Methendis, Master Aryon's Mouth. His quests generally led back to Vos, one way or another. Winterbell found Aryon's tower fascinating, and she had wandered around his museums with interest. He appeared to be very popular with the people of Vos, but Winterbell felt it presumptuous to visit the mage without being ordered to do so.

Eventually Winterbell was ordered to deliver something to the Master personally. She had the impression that this task was more than a simple delivery, and that Aryon wished to size her up personally.

Winterbell braved the choppy coastal waters, huddled below decks out of the icy breeze. Someone up on deck claimed to see an iceberg on the Northern horizon, but Winterbell had no desire to witness the phenomenon.

The guards at Vos nodded deferentially to the mage as she strode up the grassy slope to Aryon's tower fortress. Winterbell had made herself a levitating amulet, and discovered that casting it once wasn't quite enough to get her to the door of the mushroom tower.

Aryon's chambers were surprisingly small, and once one got inside stairs were thoughtfully provided. Winterbell nodded approvingly. While it seemed fit that Telvanni mages should be suitably inaccessible, she was getting heartily sick of bumping her head on their ceilings. Aryon's guard nodded politely, sizing up Winterbell's glass long sword. Winterbell straightened her hair briefly, and then walked in to meet the mage himself.

To Winterbell's surprise, Master Aryon was, by anyone's standards, beautiful. Like most Telvanni, it was impossible to tell his true age, but his fine-boned face was smooth and his long hair, carelessly tied back, was black. He stood and shook Winterbell's hand, welcoming her with the practiced tones of a seasoned diplomat. The small part of Winterbell's mind that was still a teenager noticed that his smile was breathtakingly sexy. The rest of her mind noted that he had few books and no alchemical equipment was in evidence.

"Welcome, Winterbell. I've heard a lot about you." He graciously accepted the daedra skin that Winterbell had been charged with delivering, and motioned for her to sit. "You've been causing quite a stir in certain quarters, something I'm sure that old trickster Baladas has made certain of."  
"He seems to have a few scores to settle." Winterbell said guardedly. Aryon nodded in agreement,  
"He was ahead of his time. The old guard did badly when they alienated him."  
A servant brought in flin for the Master and his guest. Winterbell complimented Aryon on his unusual tower, and he expounded on the inspiration behind its design until the servant had gone.  
"There are quite a few things being said about you, Winterbell. Many of them contradictory. But do I understand correctly that you're a member of the Mage's Guild?"  
Winterbell contemplated lying for only the briefest second, "That is correct. I currently hold the rank of Magician."  
"Well then," he chuckled, "no wonder Gotheren hates your guts."  
"What do you think?"  
"Me? I honestly don't know what to think. I think at some point you're going to have to choose between the two; and that's no choice at all. You cannot leave a House."  
"Baladas said as much."  
"You have a good understanding then, for an outlander. Don't take that as an insult. If you had been born here, doing what you have done would have been impossible. There seems to be up and coming outlanders everywhere these days." He mused.  
"When exactly would I have to choose?" Winterbell asked, relieved that Aryon didn't seem to have any peculiar ideas about her uniting the factions.  
"When they throw you out, I suspect. Once it gets to the ears of enough Guildhall Captains they'll probably get Trebonius to expel you. His hatred of Telvanni is probably the only coherent thing left in that head of his."  
"Winterbell." Aryon looked at her, his gaze sharp and calculating, "Tell me, exactly what rank are you in Telvanni?"  
"Lawman...err...woman."  
"I see. You do realise that the next promotion would bring you to the rank of Mouth?"  
Winterbell looked startled. She hadn't realised just how far those seemingly random promotions the Mouths handed out had taken her.  
"You'll need a patron." Aryon continued, "And an opening for one of them doesn't come up often. Well, unless one is made to come up. To be perfectly frank, it would be a bold move to promote you now; something in direct opposition to Gotheren."  
"Telvanni needs a new direction. We've been out here, in the middle of nowhere building towers. I wouldn't say our time has been wasted, but now there are more important things to do. The majority of my colleagues seem oblivious to the changes that are happening in the West. House Redoran is stagnating; it has been dying for generations now, their philosophy and methods outdated. It's only a matter of time."  
"As for House Hlaalu," Aryon smiled, "well, this is something that isn't common knowledge, but there are large factional splits growing in some of the old families. It's all to do with the Empire. Imperial expansion has made Hlaalu rich, but at the expense, so it has been argued, of culture and pride. There is a growing movement to oust the Empire from Morrowind. Whether or not it succeeds is irrelevant. What is important is that infighting weakens the House as a whole. Our greatest opportunity is approaching. With Gotheren at the helm, it will certainly be missed."  
"What does this have to do with me?" Winterbell had a shrewd suspicion what was to come next.  
"You might be just the person we need to get rid of Gotheren for good. You're not a politician, Winterbell, but you are audacious and powerful. I have heard stories of your seemingly bottomless reserves of magicka, and there are rumours of more subtle powers within you. If you follow my advice you may go to the very top."  
"As a figurehead." Winterbell said flatly.  
"Yes." Aryon admitted. "Most Archmagisters are. Gotheren has certain powers over the council, but he has no direct control over us, the councillors. House Telvanni is, at its heart, an individualist organisation. Our members include some of the oldest and most powerful men and women on this island. We bow to no one. We have an Archmagister to maintain stability. As long as no councillor believes he can best Gotheren in single combat there is peace."  
"Why don't you do it?"  
"Because I'm not good enough. My skills lie in diplomacy, not raw destructive magic. Baladas could probably do it, but he won't."  
"Good grief," Winterbell ran her hand though her hair, "being part of this House is the most surreal experience."  
Aryon laughed, "I'm sure you're not the only one to feel that way."  
"I don't know that I want to do this. I have all this research to do-"  
"I can't make you do anything against your will, but this is something for you to consider carefully. If you decide to stay within the lower ranks it will be more dangerous for you."  
"Why?"  
"Because of your membership of the Guild. As a law_woman_ you are unprotected by those in power. Baladas's reputation can only do so much. If Gotheren decides he's had enough of you he will see that you are gotten rid of."  
"And you can protect me from that?"  
"Gotheren has few friends amongst the council. I flatter myself that I have more allies than he does. I cannot guarantee anything, but he'll think twice before he antagonises us."  
"I'm not agreeing to anything either way," Winterbell said cautiously, "but I would like to know what you would have me do."  
"I would have you replace Galos. He's a good man, but it's obvious that the meetings are exhausting him. I've offered him promotion and small tower of his own for him to step down, should you accept the position. He is more than happy to do this; I believe he wants no part of the coming conflict."  
"I don't want to sit around in the council house all day. I have duties to do, for both factions."  
"Don't worry; I wouldn't neutralize your position as a loose cannon by cooping you up in there. Your promotion is the first step in a chain to unseating Gotheren. Until things settle down again, the council is irrelevant anyway."  
"All this requires nothing more than your consent. However, there is a task I would like you to attempt to do, at least. If you fail, well, at least we tried, but if you succeed, we will have another powerful piece on the board."  
"What would you have me do?" Winterbell felt rather nervous at the gravity of Aryon's statement.  
"I want you to try and persuade Baladas to rejoin the council. You seem quite...err...close to him, so you're more likely to have success in persuading him than I am."  
"I should probably know why he quit the council in the first place."  
"That's reasonable. I was only an Oathman back then; most of the finer points went over my head. Officially Baladas clashed with Gotheren over the so-called rogue Telvanni. Gotheren thinks they are our front-line, and we will conquer the island by building mushroom towers all over it. Baladas, far more sensibly, believed that diplomacy and espionage were the way forward. Unofficially, well, there was talk of a woman, some research partner of Baladas's. Apparently a powerful item was involved as well. Like I said, I don't know the details."  
Winterbell listened raptly, trying to imagine Baladas getting worked up over a woman. Eventually she gave up.  
"I suppose this is all ancient history now." She said.  
"Don't be so sure. We have long memories. Anyway, I would suggest you speak to Baladas about the official version only. For all I know the rest was just gossip." Aryon's expression said plainly that he did not think that was the case, but Winterbell nodded in agreement.  
"I will think about your offer. And I thank you for your confidence in my abilities."  
"You deserved it. I shall wait for your response, think on it well. There's no hurry yet, trade and warfare tend to grind to a halt during Frostfall."

Aryon handed Winterbell a minor reward for her delivery. By now Winterbell had all but forgotten her original purpose for visiting. She left Vos in a daze, still shell-shocked by Aryon's candid offer. By now night had fallen, but there was one ship departing for Sadrith Mora. The wind had dropped, but it was still bitterly cold. Winterbell stood at the prow of the boat, her breath clouding in front of her face, and her hands pulled inside the sleeves of her thick robe. She smiled faintly to herself,  
"Frostfall really is my season."


	15. Night of All Souls: Part 1

Morrowind owned by Bethesda. Dagoth Ur hasn't dropped off the face of Nim, but Winterbell is not the Nerevarine, and has other things on her mind than the Sixth House troubles. That being said, I'm not ignoring the Main Quest storyline completely... -D

Winterbell soon had no time to think about her Telvanni troubles, for Edwinna Elbert had decided that Winterbell was powerful and trustworthy enough to be involved in her research on the Dwemmer.  
  
Armed with Baladas's key Winterbell had investigated the lower levels of Arkngthand. She did not return with much in the way of goods, but was satisfied with her explorations. When questioned about it she merely warned people about the undead and constructs who walked the lower levels, and the natural cataclysms that had broken bridges spanning rivers of lava and sunken levels beneath underground pools.  
  
Some of the other mages started referring to Arnkngthand as 'Winterbell's ruin' and the mage herself did not discourage this talk. Whatever the local militia thought of her blatant disregard for the law regarding the Dwemmer, they kept silent about it.  
  
Winterbell was glad that she had obtained experience fighting the Dwemmer constructs close to home, for Edwinna was soon sending her far into the ashlands to keep track of her archaeological excavations. As the nights grew ever longer and colder, Winterbell spent most of her time tracking grimly though the silvery ash.  
  
The other mages saw little of her during this time. The biting cold prevented everyone from bathing regularly, and Winterbell's clothes were always dusty. No matter what the original colours, her wardrobe was slowly converted to a uniform grey. She strode though the various Guild-halls like a determined and cranky grey ghost, and seem to be constantly planning the next trip or recovering from the last one.  
  
With the discovery of several Dwemmer books, Ewinna's, and consequently Winterbell's, studies reached fever pitch. Winterbell believed that they might be on the track of finally discovering the secret of the disappearance of the Dwarves. Edwinna was more interested in discovering the secrets of the Dwemmer constructs that Winterbell spent much of her time fighting or avoiding. Winterbell told Edwinna nothing of Baladas's modified centurion sphere. From what Baladas had implied about the time it took to construct, Winterbell did not give much for Edwinna's chances.  
  
It was at the bottom of one of these ruins that Winterbell made the most important discovery of her career.  
  
When Winterbell had first ventured into the ancient Dwemmer halls she had been terrified. There was a strange life humming behind the walls and flickering in the cold yellow lights that were spaced uniformly throughout the ruins. The creaking and groaning of the huge devices that presumably powered the lights was distracting to say the least.  
  
Eventually Winterbell grew accustomed to being underground. The Dwemmer tended to build their cities, fortresses, houses, whatever they were, near places where the 'land's blood' or magma flowed near the surface. After travelling though the ashlands, where the temperature dropped below freezing every night, it was a relief to be safe from the cold and gritty winds, and though the air was often musty, the halls and galleries were pleasantly warm. So despite the fact that the Dwemmer's security devices were both hostile and fully functional, Winterbell looked forward to her sojourns underground.  
  
Winterbell appreciated the beauty and design of the Dwemmer constructs. Her skill with a bow had improved to the point where she could target the compartments of pressurized steam that drove the constructs on all but the massive steam centurions. These latter creatures Winterbell never lost her fear of, and metallic ringing of their footsteps was enough to have her scrabbling for her invisibility amulet and summoning daedra to take on the massive guards for her.  
  
Corpses were not uncommon in the bowels of these dungeons. Whether they were once adventurers, scholars or thieves, their remains were grim reminders of how dangerous it was to walk these all-but-forgotten halls. It was on one of these corpses that Winterbell found the book.  
  
There was an archaeological dig on the upper levels of this ruin, and apparently their local guide had wandered off, or had been taken by the metal monsters. Winterbell was frankly sceptical about the use of a local guide in a place where no elf or human had been for decades, but she kept her opinions to herself, as the scholarly types hovering around the upper level seemed genuinely worried.  
  
As she had half-expected, the guide was dead, a half-finished report and a broken sphere centurion lying next to him. He'd put up a good fight, but had been badly mangled by the construct's vicious blade. In the curious yellow light Winterbell examined the report briefly, as well as detailing the events that lead to the guide's death, there was mention of an unusual book. With a look of distaste, Winterbell rolled the corpse over. Underneath the body was an ancient tome, in the peculiar preserved state of all Dwemmer objects. It was rather gore splattered, but inside the pages were as pristine as the day they were written.  
  
Winterbell flicked though the book briefly, in case there were any loose papers inside. She blinked, moved closer to the light and turned the pages more carefully. A grin spread across her face, for every sentence was written twice. Once in a language she did not understand and once in the familiar, spiky, runic script of the Dwarves.  
  
When she reached the surface, the discovery of the book all but overshadowed the death of the guide. The head archaeologist of the dig was practically dancing; his eyes alight with the possibility for finally decoding the language of the Dwemmer. He identified the unknown language as Aldmeris. To Winterbell's disappointment, he did not know of anyone who spoke that particular dead language of the High Elves.  
  
Edwinna agreed with Winterbell as to the significance of the book, and offered Winterbell the name of someone who might know the language. Strangely enough, Winterbell could find no trace of this person. Further inquiries turned up little, although a Telvanni Winterbell met in Vivec suggested the creature in Divayth Fyr's corpusarium. Winterbell had visited it briefly on a quest for Galos, and decided that it would be her last resort. Baladas seemed a far more promising prospect.  
  
But before Winterbell braved Gnisis's awful Frostfall weather, she decided to take a break for a while. Edwinna, it seemed, had finally received enough raw research to write her book, and to Winterbell's relief, suggested she look for jobs elsewhere.  
  
Winterbell finally got to wash her clothes and have a bath. Her house was a mess from her constant coming and going, and she kept discovering ash among her ingredients and soul gems. After nearly a month in the wilderness, these domestic duties were as good as a holiday.  
  
Winterbell finally had a clean house, a clean robe, freshly washed hair, a copy of Curio's latest play, a roaring fire, and a pot of tea.  
  
There was a knock at the door.

Winterbell shut her book with an angry snap and stalked over to the door. She shivered as a wall of cold air hit her as she opened it. On her doorstep stood Marayan Dren wearing a thick robe and a brightly coloured scarf. In his hand was a hollowed out ash-yam with a candle inside. A face had been carved into the yam with a grinning expression eerily similar to Marayan's own.  
  
Winterbell stared at him, nonplussed. He looked rather put out.  
"Don't tell me you don't know what night this is, Winterbell."  
"I'm sure you're going to tell me."  
"Let me come in for a minute, all the warm air is getting out. I can't believe you've forgotten that it's the longest night of the year!"  
Winterbell stood aside to let the mage in. "So we get to indulge in the longest sleep of the year?" She asked, without much hope.  
"Surely they celebrated the Night of All Souls in Cyrodil."  
"I suppose they did. I can't say I've taken part in it since I was a girl."  
"Well then, you've got a lot of catching up to do. We are not going to let you sit out this year."  
"We?"  
"Estir and Ajira are downstairs. We're going to meet up with the others, and we're not leaving without you."  
"Oh goodie." Winterbell said without enthusiasm.  
"And your fire is still going."  
"Well of course it is. It's freezing out there."  
"All lights have to be put out. You can relight them at midnight."  
"Can't I just pretend I put them out?"  
Suddenly the front door was opened, and Estirdalin and Ajria crowded into Winterbell's house.  
"You're obviously not having much success talking her into coming out, Marayan." Estirdalin said.  
"Her fire is still going!" Ajira said in a mock-horrified tone.  
Winterbell rubbed her eyes, "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"  
"Nope!" The others chorused cheerfully.  
"Get out then, I'll put on something warmer."  
"Don't forget to put the fire out."  
"Yes, yes. Whatever."  
  
Winterbell shrugged on her warmest robe, and rather regretfully cast frost on the fire. Estirdalin peered in to make sure the fire was out, and the four mages started walking toward the town square. Everywhere people were laughing and singing and carrying ash-yam lanterns. There were stalls selling candied cromberries and the smell of frying corkbulb and ash-yam filled the air.  
  
Ajira bought an ash-yam lantern for herself, along with the cooked and spiced innards served in a paper cone. She passed the cone around, and Estirdalen started waxing lyrical about the memories this traditional holiday food brought back. Winterbell remembered back to when she was a child, watching her father carefully carve and section the yam, for the fruits of the ashlands were expensive in Cyrodil. She said nothing of this, passing the cone to Marayan without comment.  
  
While everyone was taking their time, the crowd drifted inexorably toward the town square. Two rows of ash lanterns marked a path from the temple to a huge pile of wood in the centre of the square. More and more people crowded into the square and overlooking balconies. Some of the more adventurous clambered onto the roofs.  
  
Over the heads of the crowd Masaline called to the group, having kept the Mage's Guild balcony free of spectators. She seemed delighted to see Winterbell, and explained to the group that Sharn sent her apologies, as she wanted to spend the holiday with her cousin.  
  
Even Galbedir showed up, her husband in tow. She was cool but polite toward Ajira, who acted similarly. By unspoken agreement nobody mentioned Ranis. Galbedir's husband seemed nice enough, but rather henpecked, in Winterbell's eyes at least.  
  
Only Marayan seemed to have any idea what was going on. The other mages laughed and joked as if they were at the theatre, but Marayan kept an eye on the Temple doors, and when there were signs of activity, he advised Ajira to put her lantern out.  
  
As the lanterns were snuffed out, the crowd hushed, and an air of expectancy hovered over them all. All eyes turned toward the temple doors. The stars glowed brilliantly and icily in the frigid night. People huddled instinctively together as the lanterns cooled. Winterbell pulled her hair over her ears as they started to go numb.  
  
In a blaze of light, the Temple doors opened. The local priest led the procession, a simple torch of wood in his hands. Behind him in order of rank the rest of the temple kept perfect step, unlit torches in their hands. The crowd started humming as the procession wound its way down from the Temple. The tune was vaguely familiar to Winterbell, but she couldn't quite remember it, so she kept silent.  
  
When he reached the unlit bonfire the Priest started to say something. Marayan seemed to know the recitation off by heart; Winterbell could see him nodding occasionally, as if refreshing his memory. The priest appeared to be talking a lot about the 'turning of the year' and the seasons, and there was also something about the departed souls. Winterbell couldn't have been less religious if she'd tried, and soon lost interest.  
  
Eventually the priest held the torch above his head, and ceremonially lit the torches of the acolytes. They spaced themselves around the pile of wood and straw and then as one lit the tinder at the base of the fire. The flames licked hungrily at dry wood and the crowd cheered. The acolytes started lighting people's lanterns, and the sound of conversation and laugher once again bubbled over the crowd. Winterbell also noticed the air of relief as Frostfall had been ceremonially vanquished once again.  
  
Marayan lit his and Ajira's lanterns with a snap of his fingers and informed Winterbell that she could light her fire again if she so wished.  
"But don't think you're sneaking away. The fun has only just started." He added.  
"Fine then."  
To the surprise of the other mages, Winterbell clasped an amulet that was around her neck and ripples of violet light spread from her feet. She rose into the air until she could see her front door. The crowd nearby turned to watch as Winterbell gathered her magicka.  
"_Telekinesis!_" The door of her house flew open, "_Fireball! Telekinesis!_" Her door had slammed shut again when the levitation ran out. She fell down a few feet, landing on the balcony. She staggered backwards, and Marayan stretched out and pulled her back onto the balcony.  
"Nice control." He said with a grin.  
"Hey! Someone called from the crowd, "Grant this soul a request. Could you light the fire in my house too?"  
"It's bad luck to refuse a request put in that form tonight." Marayan whispered in her ear. Winterbell scowled, but agreed to the request, first getting the Imperial to open his door the normal way so she knew where his fireplace actually was.  
"That will teach me to show off." She glowered when she rejoined the group.  
"I think it shows you're getting into the spirit of the night." Ajira smiled.  
"So everyone goes about requesting stuff all night? And people have to do it?"  
"You only get one request." Marayan explained. "It's an honour system taught to all children. If you abuse it your soul will depart before the next Night of All Souls."  
"That seems a bit harsh."  
Marayan merely shrugged.  
"And now," Masaline announced gleefully, "We are off to Vivec, where the real celebrations are!"  
"We are?" Winterbell shook her head, "I'm too old for this nonsense."


	16. Night of All Souls: Part 2

Morrowind is owned by Bethesda Softworks. The awesome Bethesda appears to be attempting to outdo itself once again with Oblivion. -D

Masaline ushered them gleefully into the deserted Guild-hall. Winterbell was still not terribly happy about being coerced into this excursion, and she walked behind the younger mages with her hands clasped behind her back.   
"All work and no play..." Marayan reminded her. Winterbell merely raised an eyebrow at him.

Masaline herded everyone onto the transportation platform. The Breton was practically bouncing with excitement, her big blue eyes sparkling. Winterbell scowled, but she had to work at it, for the cheeriness of the group was infectious. Ajira put one of her paws on Winterbell's shoulder,   
"I want to talk to you about someth-" the rest of her words were drowned out in the whoosh of magicka.

The Vivec Mage's Guild was, for once, deserted. The group strode quickly though the eerily silent complex. Galbedir's husband seemed to cheer up a bit, and Winterbell realized that he mustn't have been keen on guild-style travel. He talked to Marayan quite knowledgeably about armour, and was probably relieved to find someone among the mages with even a passing interest in his profession.

Winterbell turned to Ajira to ask her what she had tried to say earlier when Estirdalin pushed open the front door of the guild.

The noise was indescribable. Hundreds of voices in half a dozen languages were raised in celebration. The official lanterns had been extinguished, and everything was lit by ash-lanterns. Bards sang at the top of their voices, people danced, little children feel asleep on the shoulders of their parents, and the ordinators glowered menacingly from the perimeters, unable to join in the fun.

The mages pushed their way out of the Foreign Quarter Plaza; no mean feat, since it seemed half of Vvardenfell was trying to get in. They found themselves out in the cold night air, amongst a crowd only marginally less dense than the one inside. The chilly night was fended off by hundreds of lanterns strung between the cantons and by bonfires lit presumably illegally, since the ordinators were doing their best to put them out.

"Where shall we go?" Marayan hollered over the background noise. The mages huddled to make the decision.   
"There are plays at the Hlaalu canton, and a display at the arena. We could go to the Temple canton; the Ministry of Truth will be all lit up" Estirdalen rattled off a list of destinations.   
"The display will be over soon, people will be dancing in the arena." Galbedir put in.   
"Look!" someone shrieked from the crowd. There was a wave of excitement as heads turned. From out of the darkness, glowing shapes approached the city.

People rushed to the edge of the walkways, leaning over the handrail to get a better view. Word had spread fast, and the crowd thickened. Winterbell snarled as she was jostled into Masaline, who in turn nearly trod on Ajira's tail.   
"They're netches!" A keen-eyed High Elf called, "Glowing netches!"

Whoever had organised the event, they'd done well. An illusionist and a netch herder had been assigned to each of the huge animals. The netches didn't seem to mind having light cast on them as they drifted lazily ever closer. A wave of applause swept the crowd as the herders and mages climbed into gondolas waiting by the shore, and started guiding the beasts between the cantons.

Winterbell craned her neck, but couldn't see much over the heads of the crowd. Somewhere someone swore at an ordinator, telling him to take his helmet off. Winterbell felt a tug at her robe, and looked down into Ajira's bright eyes,   
"Ajira knows friend Winterbell has been busy lately. Friend Winterbell is now a Warlock, correct?"   
Winterbell nodded curiously, wondering what this had to do with anything.   
"Now that Winterbell is more powerful, Ajira shares some secrets with her friend Winterbell." The Kaijit lowered her voice even more, and Winterbell bent her head to hear what she had to say. "There is an item of great power that has been lost for hundreds of years. Ajira believes she knows where that item is. It is held in unworthy hands, those of necromancer in a cave on Mount Kand. Ajira hears these things though the escape routes. Necromancers go though a lot of slaves." She added darkly. "I do not want Winterbell to die, but if Winterbell could defeat these evil mages, a good deed will be done." Ajira shot Winterbell a knowing look, and turned her attention back to the parade. Winterbell filed away the information thoughtfully.

Winterbell wasn't too disappointed that she didn't see much of the display. She could have created a reasonable replica of the scene any night of the week, had she been so inclined. Instead she leant against the wall of the canton and eyed the crowd. The netches had provoked more applause and a lot of conversation.

Winterbell looked up at the stars partly obscured by smoke and wondered if she could sneak back to Balmora and bed without anyone noticing. She yawned and shifted against the wall when Marayan materialized out of the crowd next to her, his eyes slitted in fury and his jaw clenched. Winterbell raised her eyebrows in surprise,   
"What's wrong with you?"   
"Here, read this." He growled, shoving a piece of parchment into her hands. He held up his lantern so Winterbell could examine the document.

**PeoplE of MORROWIND: For TOO LONG has the EMPIRE stolen Our Ebony and OUR PRIDE! The Wretched OUTLANDER despoils Our LAnd and steals Our Women. He is Cnning and DISHONEST. Did not the Feared BLIGHT strike the Good People of VVARDENFELL after the Imperial TYRANT set his Iron-clad feet on Our Shore? See how he practices VILE NECROMANCY and despoils the Tombs of Our Ancestors! How the IMPERIAL Cult leads Us from the TRUE FAITH and the Temple! STRIKE OFF THE IMPERIAL SHACKLES AND TAKE BACK OUR LAND OUR PRIDE!**

"Well the punctuation is terrible." Winterbell remarked, turning over the paper to see if anything was written on the back. Marayan snatched the parchment back and glared at it,   
"This is an incitement to fight the Empire. This could lead to civil war!"   
"We've had Dagoth Ur gloating from Red Mountain for years, why should this suddenly incite your rage? Vvardenfell has never been the safest of places."   
"Vedam was right." Marayan muttered distractedly, "This is getting out of hand. No, it was already out of hand. _I can't believe he would do this_." He hissed.   
"Who?" Winterbell asked, wondering how she was going to calm the irate Dunmer down before the others rejoined them. Marayan's anger seemed to dissipate, and he rubbed his palm across his forehead in worry.   
"Look," Winterbell said reasonably, "A bunch of crazies are handing out pamphlets. It's not the end of the world. The others are coming, so if you want to discuss this later that's fine, but we're supposed to be enjoying ourselves."   
Marayan looked at her, "Yes, you're probably right. It's just...all right, I'll explain later." He forced a rather sickly looking smile as the others showed up. Winterbell kept an eye on him, but none of the others seemed to notice or comment on the pamphlets.

The group drifted aimlessly, sampling the holiday foods on sale in the streets. Winterbell bought a fried corkbulb, but declared it too salty. Estirdalin was more than happy to finish it for her. Galbedir's husband, whose name Winterbell discovered was Meldor, bought what he thought were sugared bits of ash-yam. They turned out to be crystallized kawana cuttle which were duly shared around. Ajira said quietly that she was glad some foods only appeared once a year.

They were too late to catch an entire play, but a street theatre was putting on a performance of _The Three-Legged Guar_. Curio's latest play, it was rumoured, was even bawdier, but you had to pay to see it. Winterbell muttered that if she'd been left alone she could have finished reading the play by now. But she said it quietly, and looked a bit shamefaced when Marayan caught her eye.

"Necromancers!" A rather inebriated priest heckled the group of mages near the Redoran canton, "Malefactors! Blasphemers all!" Marayan shoved some gold into his hand muttering,   
"A donation for the Temple." That seemed to satisfy the priest, who reeled off in search of more drink. Galbedir gave a wry smile and suggested that it would be a good world if all sins were forgiven as easily. There were grim smiles at this remark, and Masaline chewed her lip at the suddenly funeral atmosphere.

"I know;" she declared eagerly, "let's go dancing at the Arena."

None of the other mages were as eager, but the all ended up winding their way through the crowd for lack of any better suggestion. The doors to the arena pit had been flung open, and musicians and dancers from all over the city and even further afield had gathered.

An Imperial woman with an impressive vocal range was inviting married couples to take to the floor. Meldor bowed graciously to his wife, and the pair stepped down from the stands. A youth with a lute was trying to catch Masaline's eye, and the Breton was giggling with embarrassment; Ajira and Estirdalin on either side of her trying to give advice.

With the others distracted, Winterbell asked Marayan about the pamphlet.   
"When I visited Vedam last summer, he wanted to talk to me about Orvas. Apparently he is becoming more vocal and extreme in his views about the Empire. I thought it was just Vedam overreacting as usual, but now I'm not so sure. I've been acting as a go-between, trying to get them to be nice to each other. Orvas's letters have been...strange. He goes on these odd tangents about the Empire; I think he's trying to convert me."   
"You think he wrote that pamphlet?"   
"No. But I think he talked to the person who did. 'The Imperial tyrant's iron-clad feet' is a favourite phrase of my brother's now. It...shocked me to see it in that context. It's one thing to argue for more trading rights in the council, it's another to incite innocent people to riot."   
_So this is what Aryon meant_, Winterbell thought. Out loud she said,   
"Do you think people will take any notice?"   
"Not tonight. But they'll remember. They'll remember next time they pay their taxes, or next time the price of bread goes up, or next time they hear of someone catching the blight." Marayan turned his troubled gaze to Winterbell, "I am scared of just how far my brothers may go."   
Winterbell rested her hand on his shoulder, "I cannot begin to see a solution to this. But if there's anything I can do," he smiled at her. "Anyone I can kill." She added cheerfully.   
"Don't make jokes like that; I can never tell if they are jokes or not." He did, however, seem a bit more cheerful.

Galbedir and Meldor rejoined the group in time to see the youth stammeringly ask Masaline if she'd like to dance. Estirdalen grinned at the pair and the Imperial woman on stage called for all 'young and free folk' to dance.   
"You don't have a husband tucked away somewhere do you?" Marayan asked Winterbell suddenly.   
Winterbell blinked at him, "No." she answered with a bemused expression. Marayan took a deep breath and seized Winterbell's elbow, muttering,   
"Pleasegrantthissoularequest." and practically frogmarched her onto the sands of the arena.   
"Dren!" She protested, "I can't dance. I'm not young-oh good grief. You used those bloody words didn't you?"   
"Yes." He looked rather guilty, but didn't let go.   
"Fine." She narrowed her eyes, "Prepare to get your toes trodden on."

Like all of noble birth, Marayan had been taught how to dance, and to Winterbell's faint disappointment, she didn't tread on his toes once. Winterbell wasn't quite the oldest person dancing; she caught a glimpse of Crassius Curio leading his own kind of dance while declaring,   
"I'm young and free darling!" and unbalancing people trying to follow the music.   
Winterbell sniggered, _Telvanni councillors may be crazier, but at least they don't advertise it_.   
Marayan smiled at her, "And I thought all those afternoons were wasted."   
"I take it they made you learn to dance."   
"Yes. And now I'm grateful for it." He grinned impishly, "Because you don't have a clue!"   
Winterbell made another attempt to stomp on his foot.

When the music ended Estirdalen suggested they go to the Temple canton, but her heart wasn't in it. Tired, and with heads buzzing from the noise, the group decided to head home. Masaline said she would stay in Vivec and go back to her apartment, she sent the others back to Balmora right there on the Arena balcony.

Yawning and blinking, they exited the Guildhall. The celebrations in Balmora were continuing, but were far more subdued. Estirdalin wished Sharn a happy new year wherever she was, and thanked everyone for coming. Then the group wandered around, dropping people off at their various abodes.

By the time Winterbell and Maryan waved Estirdalen off at the Southwall, the Eastern sky was paling in the false dawn.   
"It wasn't too bad, was it?" Marayan asked, "I know you didn't want to go."   
"It was all right." Winterbell said through a yawn. "I'm gonna need a week's sleep to recover though."   
"That's generally the way it happens on the Night of All Souls."   
Winterbell climbed sleepily up the stairs to her door.   
"That reminds me," Marayan looked up at her, "you didn't get your request."   
"I probably would have requested the wrong thing." Winterbell fished in her pocket for her key.   
"Maybe." Marayan turned to go.   
"Wait! Grant this soul a request."   
He spread his hands, as if to say 'anything'. Winterbell gave a tired smile,   
"Try and talk me into going out again next year."   
A slow grin spread across his face, "You have my word!"

It was not until she finally tumbled into bed that Winterbell realised with a stab of disappointment; the odds of there being a next year were very slim indeed.

* * *

A/N: The game of Morrowind doesn't mention much about holidays and the like, so I've taken a few liberties here. Since Vvardenfell is a fairly pastoral society their holidays would likely be based around the summer and winter solstices. It was a tradition in medieval Europe to put out all the fires on the longest night of the year, a kind of show of faith that spring would once again return. I've taken a few liberties with that as well.

All of which doesn't have a lot to do with the Tribunal. Remember, however, that the gods of Morrowind were once men, and although it's not made clear (as far as I can recall) how long ago it was that Vivec and Sortha Sil enacted their drama, I'd imagine these seasonal celebrations date back before that time. The Temple, I'm assuming, has appropriated these older customs into their canon, however uneasily they fit.

I could ramble on all day about how religious the people of Vvardenfell may or may not have been, but in the interests of brevity I'll leave it there. - D


	17. Snow

Bethesda owns Morrowind and all that is contained therein. - D

Winterbell did indeed spend the next week in bed, or at least mostly within the confines of her house. It felt less of a holiday and more of an enforced rest, for her body was protesting the abuse it had suffered over the past ten months.

Winterbell peered disconsolately at her reflection in her small mirror. The harsh weather of the Ashlands had added lines to her face, and despite the abundance of food she could see the planes of her skull grinning back at her. Three quarters of a year of travelling, fighting, and most of all using magic had kept her in the skin-and-bones state she had arrived in.

Older, and yet younger. Despite the lines and scars, Winterbell felt more alive and youthful than she had in years. The vicious, individualistic young woman who had been buried under years of thankless, repetitious rebellion once again regarded the world with her molten gaze. Her lips curled easily into a victorious, arrogant smile that ever more regularly preceded her, especially amongst the Telvanni. Her magicka reserves had only grown with the constant ebb and flow of energy, and she feared less and less the sickness that crippled her so regularly in the spring and summer.

Throughout her rest, the Dwemmer books constantly held her attention. Not a waking hour went by without her glancing up and staring thoughtfully at the musty pile. She had leafed through _Hanging Gardens of Wastern Coridale_ countless times, but its mysteries remained as impenetrable as ever.

Once again Winterbell made the journey to Gnisis. As the stilt-strider plodded ever further north, the temperature dropped. People complained about the bitter weather, and about the likelihood of the frostfall ash-yam crop being ruined in the frozen ground. Some blamed the blight, some blamed the gods. After the incident on the Night of All Souls, Winterbell found herself listening in to this idle chatter, trying to gauge the depth of people's discontent.

However many times she took the strider, the driver always referred to her as 'Outlander'. It was a title she would never shake, and in some quarters it was a worse label than 'Telvanni'. Winterbell spent some time wondering about the extent of Orvas Dren's power, and how her own might eventually compare.

Baladas wasn't home. A brief note was attached to his door: "Keep Out Unless You Have A Key". Winterbell tried the 'Summoning Room' key that for some reason she'd never handed back. It didn't work, but the legend magically appeared above the keyhole, "Try Again, Winterbell". With an irritated sigh she tried every key in her bag. None of them worked. Winterbell glared at the door.

"I'm not going to sit out here freezing my ears off playing some stupid wizard's game." She fumed, and with an angry snap of her wrist, pulled a scroll from her bag.

"You don't still have the key I made?" Baladas asked with amusement.  
"Well of course I do." Winterbell snapped, "But it's a foot long. I'm not going to cart it all over the countryside. These books are heavy enough as it is."

Winterbell only had to wait two days for the mercurial wizard's return. She'd borrowed a large number of books from his library and had spent most of her time sitting in front of the fire with her feet resting on Zergonipal, who seemed to prefer to sleep during cold weather. Baladas had returned with a large number of exotic ingredients and notes from Divayth Fyr. Winterbell wished him a happy new year, only to receive an "It's gone again has it?" in reply.

Winterbell retailed some of her conversation with Aryon, who Baladas described as the 'only councillor who talked his way onto the council'. She left out, for now, her quest to get Baladas to rejoin the council. Baladas looked gleeful when she repeated Aryon's offer to be her patron,  
"See?" Baladas nudged her arm, "I told you you'd make it to the top."  
"I'm not there yet."  
"You will be." He assured her.  
"We'll see." She said skeptically.  
"Do you still take ordinary chores when you're not hobnobbing with the powerful and high-ranking?"  
"Yes." She replied sourly.  
"Excellent, I want you to find a ring for me, Winterbell. I discovered its location by cross-referencing these books you hunted down for me."

Winterbell scribbled down the mage's instructions. It seemed another week or two in the Ashlands was required; a small price to pay for the favour of the powerful Telvanni.

Baladas talked at length of his visit to Tel Fyr. He seemed quite amused by Fyr's 'daughters' although Winterbell found them vaguely horrifying. It seemed Fyr, who was not a member of the council, was one of the few Telvanni that Baladas was on visiting terms with. It was when the topic of discussion turned to the half-metal creature in Fyr's corpusarium that Winterbell remembered her purpose for visiting.

Winterbell pulled the books from her bag, saving _Hanging Gardens_ until last. Baladas turned the pages carefully, each new book provoking an admiring nod. Winterbell grinned,"Nicely preserved aren't they?"  
"Yes indeed. Pity we can't read them though." Baladas glanced up, "I don't believe I have ever seen you look so sneaky, Winterbell. What else have you got in that bag of yours?"  
Winterbell inclined her head graciously, and handed Baladas the final book,  
"See if you can make sense of that one."  
Baladas smirked and raised an eyebrow, "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"  
"It's not everyday that one can show a Telvanni master something new."  
"And this is something new to me, is it?"  
"I'll put money on it."  
"Well then, let's see what we have here...Hanging Gardens. This isn't Curio's new play is it?"  
"Since the euphemism is tenuous at best, I can safely say it's too subtle for out Hlallu playwright."  
"You got it though."  
"Just open the damn book, already!"  
Baladas laughed. "All right. I've had my fun." His smile vanished as he turned the page. "This is…and the whole book is like this..."  
"Aldmeris." Winterbell's eyes danced.  
"And you're hoping I can read it." Balaldas leant forward.  
"The thought had crossed my mind." Winterbell replied.  
"Strangely enough." He grinned.  
"You can?" Winterbell's enthusiastic grin matched his own.  
"It was a while ago." He teased, his breath tickling Winterbell's ear.  
"And your memory's not what it was?" Winterbell mocked gently.  
"I'm not _that_ old." He purred.  
Winterbell's eyes grew wide and she stepped back from the mage. She took a deep breath and shook her head,  
"That is…so you think you can decipher the Dwemmer script?" She said, talking a little faster than normal.  
"I think _we_ have a fairly good chance."

Baladas set Winterbell to copy out the entire book onto sheets of parchment while he dug around in his storeroom for his old books on Aldmeris. He still hadn't mentioned a timeline for this project, and Winterbell hoped she wouldn't die of old age before it was completed.

"I was planning to visit the libraries on Somerset Isle. That's why I learnt Aldmeris in the first place. I never ended up going though." Baladas said, returning to the study with a pile of dusty books.  
"How many languages do you speak?" Winterbell asked curiously.  
"About twenty-five. Once you've learned your first ten it becomes quite easy."  
"No doubt. Do you have any more ink?"  
"I think we should probably send Zergonipal out for supplies."

Zergonipal, however, made it perfectly clear that he had no desire to subject himself to Gnisis weather. The daedra resolutely curled up in front of the fire with his head buried beneath his massive paws.  
"Hrmm…Well. Perhaps you could leave the copying until tomorrow, Winterbell."

The next day Winterbell reluctantly got out of bed. The temperature had dropped even further, and there was a strange hush in the air. Winterbell knew the odds of getting Zergonipal to do some shopping were less than none, and so she decided to do it herself.

Huddling in her warmest robe, Winterbell opened the front door. She stared in wonder. Then sneezed. She shut the door with a bang and practically flew upstairs.  
"Baladas! Are you awake?"  
"Yes." The wizard's voice floated down. Winterbell brought herself to a skidding stop at the foot of his stairs,  
"Uhh…are you decent?"  
"Well of course I am."  
"It's snowing outside!"  
"It happens every fifty years or so."  
"Oh." Winterbell looked rather put out, "I've never seen snow before."  
"It's not that exciting." Baladas returned to his book.  
"Well I think it is. I'm going out."  
"Don't forget to buy ink. And some parchment while you're at it."  
Winterbell poked her tongue out, "Spoilsport." She muttered, wandering back downstairs.

Winterbell pulled on fur-lined boots, gloves and a helm she found mouldering in the cupboard in her room. She supposed she looked rather peculiar, but didn't let it bother her.  
"Actual snow!" She said to herself gleefully.

Inhabitants of Gnisis were less blasé about the weather than Baladas was. Those who were old enough to remember the last time it snowed told tales of how much deeper and colder the snow was 'back when I saw it first'. Children and adults alike wandered awestruck through the icy material, and snowball fights were common.

The snow wasn't really that deep, and Winterbell was relieved it came nowhere near the tops of her boots. The stilt strider seemed to be in a bad way. The driver had covered the beast as best he could in blankets and it groaned in protest at the awful weather.

Winterbell wandered around the snowball fights and enthusiastic children making 'snow daedra'. Artists were doing their best to capture the scene without freezing their fingers off.

Baladas looked up from his book for the hundredth time. Eventually he scowled and shut it with a snap.  
"Fine them." He growled, throwing on a coat and striding out. Zergonipal slept peacefully.

Winterbell reached up to snap another icicle off the tree. With a thump a snowball smashed into the back of her head, and icy water dripped down her neck. With a yelp Winterbell spun around,  
"_Telekinesis!_" Snow, icicles and possibly a couple rocks floated in the air around her. "Oh, it's you. You decided to come out after all?"  
Baladas shrugged at bit self-consciously. He eyed her unusual attire,  
"Do you know how ridiculous you look in that hat?"  
Winterbell smirked, "I wouldn't say things like that to someone with this much ammunition."  
"Oh really? _Telekinesis_." He said casually. Winterbell snarled as some of the snowballs floated away from her,  
"Hey, give them back!"  
"Oh I'll give them back."  
"Ehh? _Sanctuary_!"

"I must say, this snowfall was more interesting than the last one."  
"It doesn't last long, does it?"  
The mages wandered around the countryside just outside of Gnisis. The snow was melting already, turning to a muddy slush. Winterbell was glad that she had her boots.  
"Have you given any thought to Aryon's offer, Winterbell?"  
"Some. Aryon gave me a quest to complete before I can become his Mouth." This wasn't quite true, as Aryon hadn't insisted that Winterbell be successful, but she decided that Baladas didn't need to know about that particular clause.  
"Surely nothing that the great mage Winterbell can't handle."  
"That's entirely for you to say."  
"Me? What do I have to do with it?"  
Winterbell turned and faced him, "He wants you to rejoin the council. He told me to persuade you, and since my persuasive skills aren't the best, I'm telling you straight out what he wants."  
Winterbell waited for some kind of reaction. Baladas just looked at her, his face blank.  
"Umm…so…" Winterbell nudged him.  
"I…I don't know. I never planned on rejoining the council. Especially not with Gotheren in charge."  
"Aryon said you had some kind of disagreement with him." Winterbell said, choosing her words carefully. Baladas frowned unhappily,  
"I'll have to think on this, Winterbell. My quarrel with Gotheren-" he smiled, bitterly, "I lost."  
"I won't be able to topple him without your help." Winterbell said, wondering why she was trying to persuade him when she wasn't sure she wanted to accept Aryon's offer in the first place.  
"I know." He said shortly, "Aryon is clever and charismatic, and while that may be enough for a Hlaalu, to succeed in Telvanni requires something more."  
"Raw power?"  
"You have that in abundance, Winterbell. I was referring to knowledge. Remember when I told you what politics was?"  
"Blackmail and bribery." Winterbell replied.  
"Of all the members of the council, only Therena is older than I am. I know most of their secrets, and those I don't know I can convincingly pretend that I do."  
"Why did Gotheren win?"  
"It was a triumph of emotions over common sense. Fear mostly, at least where the other members of the council were concerned."  
"Fear of what?"  
"House Redoran, believe it or not. But all that is irrelevant now."  
"What are you going to do?"  
"I am going to translate a book with the help of a charmingly annoying member of the Mage's Guild. I'll think about this, Winterbell, you will have my answer before spring." He turned and started walking back to his dome. Winterbell gazed about at the bleak countryside once more,  
"The snow's nearly melted." She said. Baladas half-turned towards her,  
"It has a fair way to go yet."


	18. The Only Way Out is Up

Bethesda owns the Elder Scrolls series. –D

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of ink-stains and writer's cramp. There were a few setbacks, one of which was caused by Baladas forgetting that Aldmeris had four tenses. Winterbell was starting to see Dwemmer and Aldmeris in her sleep. Baladas didn't seem to sleep at all, he was still working when Winterbell went to bed and was always awake before she got up.

Frostfall continued to reign unchallenged, although it did not snow again. Winterbell wondered idly how the Mage's Guild was getting on; she hadn't seen her friends since the Night of All Souls. She shook her head; she had better things to do than worry about Marayan's family troubles.

"I've got it!" Baladas leapt to his feet, "I think." He muttered, frowning, and sat down again. Winterbell sighed. Baladas wasn't the most scintillating company when he was working. Much as she was interested in the results of the research, she was getting bored. She found herself thinking wistfully of the tombs and bandit caves waiting unexplored in the wilderness. That cave Ajira had mentioned, the mysterious item; Winterbell's imagination fired at the thought. It would take a day or two walking along the pilgrim path to Kand, but how long would it take to find the cave? Winterbell's mind continued to wander.

There was a soft snore, and Baladas looked up from the sheets of parchment. He smiled faintly, and whispered,  
"_Levitate._"

Winterbell awoke in an unfamiliar bed. She yawned, and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Balada's bed. She sat bolt upright and looked about wildly.  
"How did I get here?"  
Baladas was cooking some kawana eggs over the fire. He looked back at her, "You feel asleep. I levitated you there."  
"Ugh," Winterbell shivered as her feet hit the cold floor, "You should have put me back downstairs, or better yet, woken me up."  
"You've been working hard, you deserve your rest."  
"How long have we been working? What time is it? What _day_ is it?"  
"Spoken like a true scholar, Winterbell. Would you like an egg?"  
"I'll have two, thanks. Where did you sleep?"  
"I didn't. I find I need less sleep as the centuries pass. I only sleep every few days now."

Winterbell may have been well-rested, but she was still bored.  
"Now I know how Telvanni live so long. Everyone else eventually dies of boredom."  
"What?" Baladas looked up, "Did you say something?"  
"No, nothing."

It came as quite a shock when Baladas announced that they were finished. He placed three piles of parchment in front of Winterbell proudly.  
"I can't read this." Winterbell said.  
"Of course you can't. It's in Aldmeris."  
"Could you perhaps provide a translation?"  
"Well, to be honest I'm not sure what they all mean. I think it will take a couple of centuries or so of study to work that out. But I can give you the gist as best I understand it."  
"That will be fine." Winterbell waited, quill poised over paper.  
"Well, from what I gather this is a recipe for creating a god through scorcery, although, as I said, I don't understand all of it. According to _The Egg of Time_ it's not actually dangerous to link to a source of divine power. I must say their arguments are quite persuasive."  
Winterbell stared, agast, "I think we can safely assume the book was wrong." She said faintly.  
"Well, it seems that way." He said, with a vaguely disappointed air. "Is that enough detail for you?"  
"I think I can write a report to satisfy Trebonius with this." Winterbell looked up at Baladas, "Thank you. You didn't have to do all of this."  
"I know. But it was amusing, and interesting. I dare say I'll have some fun dangling this knowledge in front of Aryon's nose."  
"You've seen his museum?"  
"No. But I've heard of it. That man is an exhibitionist, not a scholar. I'm sure he has no idea of the true value of his artifacts."  
"Well, I appreciate your hard work and the time you spent. And as soon as I have this report handed in I'll see about getting you that ring you wanted." Winterbell said brightly, her mind already running though all the things she'd need to take. She bowed politely and went downstairs to start packing.  
"You're welcome." He said quietly.

Baladas glanced about his study. Books and papers were strewn everywhere. He could hear Winterbell swearing at Zergonipal on the floor below. With an irritable wave of his hand the room rearranged itself in a fizzing wave of magicka. He still wasn't happy.  
"Oh, hang it all." He strode downstairs.

"Winterbell." Such was the suddenness of his arrival; Winterbell nearly dropped the potion she was holding. "I'll do it."  
"Uhh…do what exactly?"  
Baladas set his jaw, "I'll rejoin the council. I'll take you to the top."  
"Oh." Winterbell felt a stab of worry, "You don't have to decide yet you know."  
"No, I've made up my mind. I've been stuck out here too long; revenge is best served cold, not fossilized."  
"Well then. I seem to have promoted myself to Mouth. What exactly happens now?"  
"You talk to Aryon, and the next time the council is attended by a councillor you and whoever I choose as my Mouth will be inducted into the council. So, whenever Aryon thinks is convenient, basically."  
"Someone in the Mage's Guild is bound to notice."  
"Like who? It was sheer chance you were found out last time. Trebonius is a nutcase, Edwinna is wrapped up in her studies and we keep the Wolverine Hall lot under fairly close observation. There's Caldera, have you ever been to Caldera, Winterbell?"  
"No."  
"I don't think we need to worry about them. That leaves Balmora, which I gather is your powerbase anyway. Remember, Winterbell, when the time is right, you will want everyone to know."  
"You're not still going on about this 'uniting the factions' thing, are you?"  
"Archmagister is a very real possibility for you. It's up to you to say if you think that Archmage is as well."  
Winterbell considered, "Trebonius is crazy. The only reason he's still there is that no one else suitable wants the job. I'm sure Ranis would love to get it, but no one will support her."  
"Will they support you?"  
"After this report, very probably. But I'm nowhere near high enough up to be considered for Archmage."  
"Then you might want to work on that. Timing will be important. Talk to Aryon when you are ready, there's no point in rushing things."

When Winterbell stepped from the Guild Guide platform in Balmora there was a spontaneous wave of applause. Winterbell rolled her eyes and grinned in acknowledgement. Much the same thing had happened in Vivec, when she had proudly placed her report in Trebonius's hands. To her disappointment he didn't have a reward for her; in fact he seemed to have forgotten sending Winterbell on the quest in the first place. She had given a copy of the report to Sirilonwe as well, in case Trebonius lost his copy. It also didn't hurt to have as many people as possible aware of her academic triumph.

"Well done." Ajira clapped her on the back.  
"So that's where you've been." Ranis didn't look terribly impressed. Winterbell supposed she'd have to do a few more duties for the cranky mage to get back in her good books. Marayan was looking tired, but he grinned widely when he saw Winterbell. To her surprise, he pulled her into a one-armed embrace,  
"Brilliant work. You'll make history, Winterbell." His words were a cheerful and innocent echo of Baladas's. Winterbell frowned, _Am I betraying these people?_ It was with the Balmora Mage's Guild chattering gleefully around her that Winterbell resolved that she would never place Telvanni interests over those of the Guild. It was a vow she truly intended to keep.

The content of Winterbell's report caused quite a bit of comment as well. To her disappointment Edwinna dismissed the work as having no bearing on learning how to construct Dwemmer Centurions. She also didn't believe that the translation was very accurate. Winterbell bristled, but said nothing.

With the eyes of the Guild on her, Winterbell became for a time the very model of a Mage's Guild member. She did quests for Ranis and Skink, delivered documents, found ingredients and generally made herself known and helpful.

Despite all of this, there were vague rumours of a Telvanni spy circulating. Winterbell paid close attention to the rumours but said nothing. Most people did not seem concerned about the prospect, as Ajira said,  
"They've got more to hide than we have."  
"Maybe they're trying to understand Trebonius?" Estirdalin said.  
"If they can, then they deserve to put their mushroom towers on Vivec's Palace itself."  
"Don't joke like that, Ajira. We know they would if they could."  
"Somehow I can't see all the Telvanni combined being a threat to the Living God."

Winterbell told Ajira that she was going to find those necromancers. Everyone wished her luck as she took the Stilt Strider to Molag Mar. Winterbell felt vaguely guilty about deceiving them, but wanted nothing to connect her to the promotion of the new Telvanni Mouths.

Winterbell took several boats to Vos, where Aryon received her courteously. He had received a message from Baladas, and commended Winterbell on her persuasive skills. Winterbell was quite sure Aryon had the wrong idea about her relationship with Baladas, but didn't bother to try and explain.

Winterbell travelled with Aryon to Sadrith Mora. Although he could have used magic, he told her it was sometimes useful to travel more slowly, so as to give those at your destination a chance to prepare.

Although Nelos would have been obliged to house them at his tower, Aryon vehemently decided that they would stay at the Gateway Inn. There had been rumours of a haunting, but by the time Aryon and his entourage arrived it had apparently been taken care of by someone from the Fighter's Guild.

Winterbell thought the Gateway much pleasanter than Nelos's tower, and decided to stay there in future. With bandit caves yielding so much loot, money was no object for the mage.

That night Winterbell sat in her room, her best robe laid out for the next day. Right then she wished she was somewhere, anywhere, else. She wished Baladas would show up. House Telvanni, she decided, was a lonely place.

There was a knock at the door. To Winterbell's surprise, it was Aryon. He smiled kindly at her,  
"Nervous?"  
"Just a bit."  
He folded his long frame into a chair, while Winterbell perched on the bed, "Tell me," He said, "What's the Mage's Guild like?"  
"Rowdy. I suppose it's like…Telvanni is the Council Club and the Mage's Guild is like a Cornerclub."  
"Full of thieves?"  
"Well, there are one or two," said Winterbell, thinking of Galbedir and Edwinna. "But I mean that it's brighter and cheaper and smaller; friendly."  
"I see," he looked down, "so you prefer it there?"  
"I don't know. I have friends there, but their petty rivalries and continuous in-jokes get stifling after a while. I don't know where I fit in."  
"Hmm. Well, I have an offer for you, Winterbell. If you somehow manage to remain in the Mage's Guild, after we get rid of Gotheren I'm willing to denounce you as a Guild spy, with your co-operation, and you can go back to the Guild."  
"That's…that's very generous of you."  
"To be honest I don't know what will happen after Gotheren is gone. He might manage to unite the councillors against him, but after that? Who knows? What I'm trying to say is certain factions in the House might not want you around after this is all over."  
"And that's an easy way out."  
"If you want to stay on as Archmagister then I will continue to support you, I merely offer this as an alternative. Although I highly doubt you will still be in the Mage's Guild by the time Gotheren goes. Maybe they will let you back."  
"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."  
"You're a mystery to me, Winterbell. What is it you want out of all of this?"  
"I've been thinking about that for a while. I want out. Out in the best, most advantageous way possible. Out so I don't have half of Vvardenfell after my scalp. Out so I clear my debts."  
"I…see. Well, actually I don't."  
"Don't worry; you'll get what you want. I'll do my best to get rid of Gotheren."  
"And that is all I ask."  
"It's all you'll get." Winterbell said flatly, "I understand all of this is to the advantage of your own political ends."  
"Then you understand Telvanni." He stood and bowed before heading out, "Good night Winterbell. I'll see you tomorrow."  
"Good night, sir."

During that conversation something had clicked in Winterbell's mind. The details were hazy, but she was beginning to see a solution to this mess. She smiled to herself,  
"The only way out is up."


	19. Telvanni Ascending

Baladas arrived by magic the next morning, a Dunmer whom Winterbell didn't recognize in tow. He was obviously uncomfortable being back in Sadrith Mora, and his speech was stilted and formal. He greeted Winterbell briefly, and introduced her to his Mouth, an ex-student of his. He then spent the morning talking with Master Aryon.

Baladas's Mouth grinned nervously at Winterbell. Either he was worried about the upcoming ceremony or he had heard Winterbell was being groomed for the top. Winterbell ignored him. She had enough of a job hiding her nervousness without sharing it with someone else. The council would meet at noon.

Galos turned up mid-morning. He greeted Winterbell genially, although he seemed a bit embarrassed. Aryon had explained his original mistake to him, and he apologized for recruiting Winterbell without first checking that she wanted to be recruited. His position was an awkward one for a Telvanni, as it was quite rare for one to leave his post voluntarily. He admitted quite cheerfully that he was glad to be out of the council, and talked enthusiastically about his plans to research the growth and formation of soul gems.

Winterbell let his words wash over her. Her eyes were on the doorway to Aryon's room. It was nearly noon. Members of Aryon's entourage were assembling, and Baladas's Mouth was running his hand nervously through his hair. Winterbell took a deep breath and stiffened her spine. Too late to back out now, she thought.

The show began. Aryon and Baladas played their parts flawlessly. Aryon was the only councillor participating, and he radiated power and leadership. He was the silent and commanding hub of a scurrying wheel of subordinates hurrying to their allotted places. Winterbell fell into place behind Galos, her eyes scanning the room for her next cue. She had been told what was going to happen, but there had been no time for a rehearsal, as Aryon had thought there was a slim chance Gotheren might have tried to intervene.

It was Aryon's show, but he made sure to act deferentially to Baladas, who walked just behind him and slightly to the right. Baladas's face was expressionless, but he acknowledged Aryon with a regal nod. Together they symbolized Telvanni united; mutual respect, respect for rank, respect for knowledge. Telvanni unstoppable. Just before the last subordinate had found his place, the procession began to move.

Almost all of Sadrith Mora had turned out to see the show. The local chapter of the Mage's Guild was conspicuous by its absence, and the glance Winterbell threw towards Wolverine Hall revealed why. A large number of Telvanni Lawmen and women, their faces concealed by cephalopod helms, were standing around the entrance. There was no sign of conflict, a fact for which Winterbell was thankful. Slaves knelt, Telvanni associates bowed, and the guards wandered among the crowd religiously checking the papers of all visitors.

Nelos, of course, was there, and he was less than pleased to see Baladas. Aryon nodded to him as they passed but did not stop; a subtle snub that he would probably remember. Winterbell focused on the task of keeping in line, and trying not to step on the back of Galos's shoes.

A brisk and chilly sea breeze whipped that the robes of the assembly as Aryon preformed a ritualized greeting at the door of the Council House. The procession had stretched out, as only two people could stand comfortably abreast on the winding path over the surf. Winterbell felt rather ill, and uncomfortable in her silvery robe. She couldn't see Aryon from where she was standing, instead she stared at the back of Baladas's head, watching the breeze ruffle his hair. He must have felt her stare, for he glanced back at her. The stress in her face must have been evident, for he gave a faint, reassuring smile and a wink that for a few seconds jolted Winterbell out of her nerves.

Winterbell had no idea how long the ceremony lasted. She spent most of it staring ahead, counting off the speeches until she had to step forward. Aryon's speech was carefully crafted and beautifully delivered, Galos's was unpolished but heartfelt, and Baladas's was short and to the point, the wizard making a veiled threat to anyone who might be considering disturbing his solitude.

Finally Winterbell stepped forward. She recited her half of a ritualized exchange with Galos, received the ceremonial Staff of Peace, and stepped before Aryon. Aryon started to say his piece, and Winterbell suddenly realized she could see no way of getting up to the Mouth's platform gracefully. Galos had merely been obliged to step down. Winterbell was still tossing up whether or not to fish for her levitating amulet when Aryon stepped back. Too late now, she thought, I'll have to jump.

She stepped forward, feeling a strange kind of prickling in her hair. She shook her head slightly to dislodge it. The prickling continued, and suddenly she felt magicka ripple from her feet. Gracefully she stepped into the air and floated onto the platform. Baladas tucked his hand back inside his sleeve.

And it was over. Most of the Mouths clustered around Galos to wish him farewell. Aryon was making his way over to Nelos, who had been observing from the upper platform, and Baladas waded irritably through the crowd towards Winterbell. He yanked her rather roughly off the platform, and she stumbled.  
"Why did you do that?" He asked, rather annoyed. Winterbell looked stricken,  
"What? What did I do?"  
"I was _trying_ to help. Why did you keep absorbing my magicka?"  
"I…so _that's_what it is. I swear I wasn't doing it on purpose. Spells don't work on me all the time."  
Baladas looked at her thoughtfully. "Well. That was unexpected. I think you may be truly blessed, Winterbell. Anyway, I'm getting out of here." He started to fade from sight.  
"Thank you." Winterbell called sincerely through the wisps of magicka. He gave a perfunctory nod,  
"Visit me." He ordered, "But not too soon." He added, his voice distorting and fading as he vanished.

Winterbell felt rather at a loose end. She felt it would be a good idea to talk to Aryon before he left, so she leant rather uncomfortably against the wall and waited. No one seemed particularly interested in talking to her, although some of the Mouths welcomed her formally. Raven Omayn informed her that councillor Dratha was pleased that Aryon had chosen a female Mouth, and wished her well.

Eventually Aryon emerged from his talk with Nelos. He did not seem to be in a terribly good mood, and he informed Winterbell that Nelos was 'going to be a problem'. Winterbell mentioned her talk with Raven and he cheered up somewhat.  
"I was hoping that would happen. I think Dratha would support any female who aimed for the top, no matter what her politics. I shall have to get in contact with her."  
"Does she hate men?"  
"That's putting it mildly. She's an extremely competent councillor otherwise. Very ruthless."  
"What now?"  
"We all go home. Although I do have a job for you. I own an egg mine near Vos, and the queen has been blighted, you see."  
Winterbell blinked at him. "You want me to cure the queen?"  
"Unless it's too difficult for you."  
"No, not at all. I was just expecting something a little different."  
He chuckled, "Patience Winterbell, come warmer weather you'll be run off your feet."

It was when Winterbell went to cure Aryon's kwana queen that she discovered the dark side to the progressive and friendly Telvanni. The lower levels of his imperial-style fortress were home to all manner of daedra, and she discovered a blood-splattered testimony written by a deceased worker that made her blood run cold. The people of Vos had no idea what went on beneath the tower on the hill.

Baladas's dismissive attitude towards Aryon had lulled Winterbell into a false sense of security, and she was sure it was no accident that her patron had directed her to travel through his dungeon. Unlike Zergonipal these daedra were less than friendly, and Winterbell was wounded and shaken when she returned to report the queen cured. Aryon appeared not to notice her plight, and she said nothing of it.

Winterbell had no intention of returning to Balmora empty handed, and she made the return journey to Molag Mar. She considered herself a seasoned ashlands traveler, and so she stepped confidently along the pilgrim's trail to Mount Kand.

As was to be expected after such vague directions Winterbell had a bit of trouble finding the necromancers' cave. Not that she minded. There were plenty of tombs nestled in the ashlands, perfect places to hone one's skills and shelter from ash storms.

Eventually Winterbell stumbled across the entrance to the necromancer's cave. She thought she knew what to expect, the usual summoned guards, the apprentices with their own little caverns, and the master wizard at the back. Nothing quite prepared her for the sheer bulk of magical muscle summoned to defend this particular place.

The place was crawling with Daedroths. With the notable exception of Zergonipal, they were Winterbell's most disliked daedra. Tough, strong and dripping with lethal poison, even Winterbell's peculiar immunities had trouble keeping up. The dremora bound to a helm Winterbell had been presented with died time and time again as she battled the magical monsters. Compared to the summoned beasts, the apprentices offered little resistance.

Winterbell was beginning to wonder if these particular renegade mages were expecting trouble. Every turn and twist of their cave, and every summoned guard was placed to maximize their defensive capabilities. Winterbell cast quite a few defensive charms of her own, and with a grim smile headed for the final cavern.

Winterbell had the sneaking suspicion that whoever it was lurked in this room, they were Telvanni, or at least influenced by them. They had set up their living space on an island in the middle of an underground lake. There was no way to get across bar flying. It would have been impossible for Winterbell to sneak over anyway, for she had been expected.

The sorceress was waiting for her. The strangely ageless Dunmer woman was dressed in fine clothes, an enchanted dagger in her belt. She regarded Winterbell with a faint smile of surprise,  
"You're not quite what I expected." Her voice floated across the water.  
"I am Winterbell, of the Mage's Guild. I heard tell of a valuable item, held in unworthy hands."  
"Unworthy? We shall fight to see who is worthy." She seemed somewhat disappointed. Winterbell received the impression that she was expecting someone else. "I, Dreveni Hlaren, will end this now!" With a fluid movement she grabbed a strange white staff from the table behind her and cast it in a flurry of magicka.

Winterbell didn't wait around, she threw a ball of frost at the sorceress, but she had ducked behind a rock. Instead another Daedroth rose from the floor, its jaws dripping with toxic ichor. Winterbell didn't waste magicka on it, instead drawing her bow. The lake was now to Hlaren's disadvantage, for the Daedroth could only use its poison. In its eagerness to tear its opponent apart, it ran into the lake.

"Stupid beast!" Hlaren swore, magicka crackling between her hands as she emerged from behind the rock. Winterbell preferred to use close range magic, as it was more efficient, and so she clasped the amulet around her neck and floated over the water, where the Daderoth was still scrabbling ineffectually at the wet rock.

Hlaren drove the end of the staff into Winterbell's stomach as she landed on the stone. She stumbled, but the levitation magic still held. Scrambling for a less precarious position on the rock, Winterbell summoned a scamp to buy some time. Hlaren finished it off with a contemptuous flick of her wrist, but that was long enough for Winterbell to cast another frost spell. This time she didn't miss.

Hlaren screamed, and threw shock magic. Winterbell grinned manically. That spell had been powerful, and her entire side was numb save for a dull ache.  
"Now this is fighting!" She roared, as magicka flowed from her fingertips. The mages dueled, explosions of magicka lighting up the cave. Spells intercepted and cancelled, and neither gave an inch.

Winterbell screamed as toxic claws ran down her back. The Daedroth had managed to scramble up onto the rock. Her vision darkened momentarily as Hlaren smiled in triumph. Winterbell mentally ran though all her scrolls at items for something that would get her out of this mess.

With poison still coursing through her bloodstream, Winterbell turned on the Daedroth and cast. There was a sparkle of frost, and the monster became eerily silent. It wouldn't last long, but for now the monster was paralyzed. Winterbell wasn't going to give it time to recover.

Hlaren gaped, "That amulet." She stared at the innocuous bone trinket that had neutralized her summoned beast. "Where did you get it?" She snarled her face twisted in fury. Winterbell gulped down potions, ignoring for the moment Hlaren's spells and screeches.

As the potions worked their magic, Winterbell called upon her more powerful spells, pressing home the advantage. Hlaren was fumbling for her own potions when she fell to her knees, her system overwhelmed by Winterbell's constant barrage of cold magic. As the light in her eyes faded, Hlaren looked up at Winterbell, an expression of abject grief on her face,  
"He never tried. He never came." And she fell.

Winterbell went through Hlaren's belongings, and collapsed into a chair, the strange white staff in her hands. It was obvious that this was the item that Ajira was referring to, for Winterbell had never seen the like. She had no idea what it was made out of, although it might have been marble. She could see the magicka gleaming beneath its surface.  
"Truly a wonder." She murmured. She glanced back at Hlaren's corpse, and wondered idly what her story was. She had been interested in the amulet. Winterbell pulled out of her robe and examined it, trying to remember where she had acquired it.  
"Oh that's right. Baladas gave it to me, for finding those books. I wonder if she was Telvanni after all."

* * *

The amulet in question is, of course, the Amulet of Admonition that Baladas presents you with after you complete his first quest. It isn't a unique item, but it is sufficiently rare to be noteworthy. –D 


	20. Unravelling

Winterbell was desperate to get the staff identified, but remembered that Baladas didn't want visitors for the time being. Instead she recalled back to Balmora to show it to Ajira.  
"What have you been telling Marayan?" Estirdalin interrupted Winterbell's retelling of her adventure with an annoyed expression. Winterbell looked to Ajira for some explanation.  
"Estir, there's no need to take that tone with Winterbell. I know you're worried, but Marayan can probably take care of himself."  
"What is Dren up to now?"  
Estirdalin glared at Winterbell, "I'll have you know Ranis is furious. Who knows who she'll take it out on. And if he gets hurt-"  
"Look, I don't-" but the Altmer had turned and stormed off, "have the foggiest idea what's going on." Winterbell finished.  
Ajira laid a paw on Winterbell's arm, "You've missed quite a lot recently. Let's go out to lunch."

The alchemists found a quite table in the Southwall Cornerclub. The Argonian trainer whose neck Winterbell had saved walked past with a cheery greeting. Over seafood and flin Ajira told what she knew of the events after the Night of All Souls.  
"I don't really know what happened on New Year's, but something upset Marayan. He started poking his nose into things. Spending half his time at the Council House. Anyway, he must have upset someone, because he got a visit from the Cammona Tong."  
"Was he all right?" Winterbell was rapt.  
"It was a 'friendly' visit I gather. I guess they were warning him off something. Whatever it was, it didn't work. He seemed to go completely crazy after that. He asked for some time off to visit the Duke, but Ranis said no. He went anyway."  
"This doesn't sound like him."  
"Which is why Estir blames you. You're always gallivanting around doing who-knows-what who-knows-where. She thinks you've talked Marayan into becoming an adventurer or something."  
"Is he still visiting the Duke?"  
"No. He came back two days later in a filthy temper. He was quite…abrupt. Ranis gave him a warning, but that seemed to make him madder. He said something about you getting away with breaking the rules. Which reminds me, you're in Ranis's bad books as well. She says you don't spend enough time here doing guild work."  
Winterbell began to launch into an explanation, but Ajira held up her hand, "I'm just warning you. She's been getting a very nasty look in her eye every time your name is mentioned lately. I think she's decided you've risen high enough in the Guild."  
Winterbell shook her head, "Where's Marayan then?"  
"We don't know. A few weeks ago this Dunmer woman showed up. She was dressed like a commoner, but she talked like a noble. I don't know who she was, but Marayan was glad to see her. I got the impression she had a room at the Eight Plates, and everything calmed down for a while."  
"How old was she?"  
"Young. Quite pretty I suppose. Everyone thought Marayan had just lost his head over a girl for a while. Middle-aged toms will do that." Ajira added wisely.  
Winterbell didn't look impressed. Ajira appeared not to notice her scowl, and continued,  
"Like I said, things calmed down. Marayan still went to the Council House, but he returned to his duties."  
"Who did he say the woman was?"  
"Both Estir and Ranis tried to lever it out of him, but all he'd say was 'she's a friend'. Which didn't go down terribly well." Ajira paused for dramatic effect, "Two days ago, she vanished. We know because Marayan was distraught. He seemed to think something bad had happened to her. He turned up in leather armor and told Ranis he was going out and he didn't know when he'd be back. Ranis directly ordered him to stay. He uhh…well, he told her to go polish Trebonius's empty skull."  
Winterbell burst out laughing, "Oh I'll bet she didn't like that."  
Ajira tried to hold back a smile, "If looks could kill. She's been a rage ever since. Everybody's been tiptoeing around. Galbedir has basically retreated to the top floor, Sharn has been grumpier than usual, if that was possible, Estir…well, you saw her. Masaline is holding up well, considering. I think she's got a boyfriend."  
Winterbell looked at the Kaijit with concern, "What about you?"  
"Me? I'm all right. I'm just…trying to hold things together, you know. Estir is terrified Marayan won't come back. And frankly," she swallowed, "so am I."  
Winterbell looked away, "If we had a clue where he was I'd go and look for him. It would help if we knew who this woman was."  
"He's getting involved with bad things, I know it."  
"He's a decent mage. I've seen him, he can swing a sword."  
"But he's not a fighter. Not like you even."  
"He's not stupid either, at least, not that I remember."  
"We can only hope. Besides, there's something else I want to talk about, Winterbell." Ajira was choosing her words carefully. Winterbell knew what was coming. She bowed her head and waited. "Your report on the Dwemmer. I read a copy, it was very interesting." Ajira glanced at Winterbell, who was keeping her face blank,  
"Go on." She said tonelessly.  
"You mentioned a research partner. The language expert who helped you with the Aldmeris. A Demnevanni by name."  
"He lives in a Velothi dome in Gnisis."  
"According to Sharn he's also quite well respected in House Telvanni."  
"Sharn." Winterbell snarled.  
"Wait." Ajira shook her head, "I asked her. I'd heard the name before somewhere. She said that he was Telvanni, and that I could draw my own conclusions."  
"And you have?"  
"Not yet, Winterbell. I count you as a friend. I would hear you out."  
"It's a long story."  
"I'm willing to risk Ranis's wrath and stay out one afternoon."  
"Very well."

Winterbell told her tale, leaving out for now Baladas's scheme to unite the factions. She didn't divulge how she blackmailed Sharn either. Ajira listened, not moving a whisker.  
"This is…unbelievable." She said at last. "You've just wandered in. Served the great House Telvanni like it was another chapter of the Mage's Guild. This is…I choose to believe you, Winterbell. I don't think you're a spy. You're too…suspicious for one thing. A spy would blend in, not openly visit their masters."  
"I have made a promise to myself. I will always do what I believe to be best for the Mage's Guild."  
"I didn't know you had such a sense of loyalty."  
"I don't. But I have friends here. Friend is a foreign word to the Telvanni."  
Ajira smiled craftily, "What about this Baladas? He sounds like a fine specimen to me."  
"He…I cannot say. He does his best, but really, he's a Telvanni at heart. I've done some things I'm not terribly proud of, Ajira, but I shall continue."  
"To become Archmagister?"  
"Why not?"  
"Well, Trebonius will have you expelled."  
"I am not scared of Trebonius. I'll just have to think on my feet. See where this all takes me."  
Ajira thought for a long while, "Then I will stand by your side, friend Winterbell." Ajira stared as Winterbell bowed her head, could she be? But when she looked up, her eyes were clear.

The friends talked of many things that afternoon, but it wasn't until they were strolling back to the Guildhall that Ajira was struck by a sudden thought,  
"Baladas is very well connected. I wonder if he'd know where Marayan went."

Winterbell granted that Marayan's safety was more important than Baladas's solitude, but she didn't know if the wizard would agree with her. Unfortunately there was no quick way of getting to Gnisis, but Winterbell thought that if she hurried she'd be able to get the evening strider from Ald'ruhn.

Winterbell raced out before the armourer closed to get her weapons repaired. Ranis was waiting for her when she returned.  
"Ah, Winterbell, just the person I wanted to see."  
"I'm kind of in a hurry." Wintebell replied, but she could see Ranis wasn't going to take no for an answer.  
"I just want to give you a job. I assure you it won't take long." Ranis's eyes held a predatory gleam. "I've heard rumours of a Telvanni spy in the Mage's Guild. I want you to find out who it is, and report back to me. Unless there's some reason you can't?"  
Winterbell didn't have time for these games. She knew Ranis was looking for an excuse, any excuse to cause her trouble. There was no point in giving her one, yet. Winterbell gave a bright, brittle smile,  
"As soon as I get back, I'll get right on it." She'd deal with this later. How exactly she wasn't sure, it would probably depend on who exactly the spy was reporting to. Right now Marayan was her first priority.

Ranis didn't expect Winterbell's cheery capitulation, and her momentum was lost. Winterbell took the opportunity to escape, her boots tapping on the stone-flagged floor as she fled. Ranis glared after her, sensing she'd lost a battle.

Estirdalen was the next person to waylay Winterbell.  
"What did Ranis want?" She asked suspiciously, her dislike of their superior overriding her current animosity towards Winterbell.  
"To cause trouble." Winterbell replied, "I'm going to talk to someone who may know where Dren is."  
"Good luck." The Altmer called after her. Winterbell nodded in acknowledgement.

Winterbell had the feeling that she wouldn't be getting a lot of sleep in the near future, so she catnapped uncomfortably in the back of the stilt strider, her dreams fragmentary and uneasy. By the time the strider pulled into Gnisis most places had shut for the night. Winterbell was thankful that Baladas didn't seem to hold with traditional sleeping patterns. She yawned and stretched and stumbled up the path to Arvs Drelen.

Winterbell prudently called up the stairs ahead of her,  
"Baladas? Is it all right if I visit a little earlier than planned?"  
"You are always welcome here, Winterbell." His voice floated down. "You needn't be so cautious, I'm not senile yet."  
"It doesn't hurt to ask." Winterbell walked up the stairs to Baladas's study.

The wizard was bending over his alchemical apparatus, his nose practically touching the alembic as he added minute scrapings of dreugh wax. Winterbell nibbled at some scuttle and talked, mainly to herself, until he had finished,  
"I think Ranis is on to me. Or at least, she doesn't like my current popularity. Not that I'm terribly popular in Balmora at the moment."  
"What did she say?" Baladas appeared to be listening with half an ear at least.  
"She wants me to find a Telvanni spy. I'm not sure if she thinks _I'm_ the spy, of whether she thinks I'll have to protect whoever it is as a fellow Telvanni."  
"Well, he's not mine."  
"What?"  
"I don't have a spy in the Mage's Guild. My sources are close outsiders. Cleaners, delivery boys, people like that."  
"I'll have to do what's best for the Guild, in any event."  
"So you'll expose the spy?"  
"Not necessarily."  
"Hmm..." his experiment over for the moment, Baladas stood and stretched, "Was that what you wanted to talk to me about?"  
"No, actually, I wondered if you have uhh…any idea…" Winterbell trailed off as she realized Baladas was staring fixedly at something behind her, his face pale. Winterbell turned and peered over the back of her chair. Leaning against the wall was her travel-stained pack and the strange white staff. "Oh, I found that recently. I was wondering if you'd be able to identify it."

Baladas said nothing, his hands clenching and unclenching. Winterbell eased out of the chair and began to back away. She wondered what had gotten into him. Suddenly Aryon's words came floating back to her.

A quarrel over a woman. A powerful item. The Telvanni-style cave. Hlaren recognized Baladas's amulet. She had been waiting for someone. Winterbell had killed her less than a week ago. _Oh shit._

"What have you done?" Baladas's voice was quiet and even. Winterbell would have preferred it by far if he'd be shouting. His eyes burned.  
"There was a necromancer's cave-" Winterbell started, still backing away.  
Baladas took a deep breath, "Is she dead, Winterbell?"  
Winterbell gave an infinitesimal nod, not daring to breath. Baldas bowed his head, and Winterbell braced herself.  
"Get," he still hadn't raised his voice, "Out. Now."  
Winterbell didn't need to be told twice. She made a grab for her pack and the staff.  
"Leave it!" He snarled. She could hear the raw pain in his voice. She pulled her hand back as if she had been burned.  
"_Recall._"

Winterbell arrived back in her house and fell back onto the bed.  
"What a mess." She gazed at the ceiling. With a sigh she hauled herself out of bed and lit the fire and some candles. She sat in front of her alchemical equipment, but didn't attempt to make anything. Instead she ran her fingers over the curving stone and glass, and tried to make sense of all the threads that had managed to come unraveled that day.

"Dren, you are an idiot. And Baladas, he's even worse." She drummed her fingernails on the wooden tabletop, "And I take the grand prize for idiocy. If I had just stopped and _thought_. Too late now." Winterbell looked around her room, uninspired. "Maybe I'll have some bright ideas tomorrow."  
She got up and started putting out candles. There was a knock at the door.  
"…Dren?" She hurried over, hope and curiosity burning bright. "Oh, it's _you_."

* * *

A cliffhanger! Yeah, sorry about that. Anyway, this story will be on hiatus for a few weeks over Christmas and New Year as I am going home to the land of dial-up and cut-throat competition for the computer. I'll see you all (what, one of you?) in the New Year. Happy Holidays Everyone! -D 


	21. The Mystery Girl

A/N: Allrighty then, I'm back. I hope you haven't all forgotten me. Morrowind belongs to Bethesda.

* * *

"Are you Winterbell, the mage?" The young Dunmer looked up at Winterbell cautiously. She was shivering in the cold night air, and Winterbell could see her jaw clenching in an effort to keep her teeth from chattering. Winterbell nodded an acknowledgement,  
"And I suppose you're the mystery girl." Winterbell stepped aside, "You'd better come in before you freeze."  
The girl made a beeline for the fire, and crouched in front of it, warming her hands. She looked around in awe at the esoteric items that cluttered Winterbell's one room abode. She was very careful not to touch anything, a courtesy that Winterbell did not fail to notice.  
"Tea?" She jumped at Winterbell's voice.  
"Y-yes, thank you madam."  
"Hmm…you do have nice manners. Dispense with the formalities. Friends and enemies alike call me Winterbell."  
"Yes Winterbell." She said deferentially. "Marayan talked about you a lot."  
"And I invited you in to talk about Dren. I assume you're here to help. "  
"Yes. It was my fault that he vanished."  
"All right. Start from the beginning. Who are you, how do you know Dren, and where is he now? And please pull up a chair, I don't bite."

She wrapped her fingers gratefully around her cup of tea and began her tale.  
"My name is Ilmeni Dren. Vedam Dren, the Duke, is my father."  
"So you're his _niece_."  
"Yes, Marayan is my uncle. My father and I don't always see eye to eye. He is a good ruler, but he cares more about commerce than about the people. And my other uncle, Orvas, he's worse. He's a very dangerous man. I'm…involved in an organization dedicated to abolishing slavery. This horrible practice still continues under the auspices of 'tradition'. It is inhumane-"  
Winterbell held up her hand, "I don't need the sermon. I'm from Cyrodil originally; I don't need to be persuaded that slavery is unenlightened."  
"Ah, I thought you had a faint accent. My Uncle Orvas doesn't like outlanders much. He also keeps slaves. On our own family plantation. He treats them terribly. Father turned a blind eye to most of my activities for the Twin Lamps. He doesn't keep slaves; he thinks free enterprise is best. But he forbade me from interfering with Orvas."  
"And you ignored him?"  
"Not at first. But the reports of brutality from the Dren plantation grew more frequent. It was shameful, having these things linked to the Dren name. I had to do something. I started helping slaves escape from my Uncle's plantation. He found out eventually."  
"Go on."  
"He went to my father. They aren't on the best of terms, to put it mildly, but Father was furious I was endangering myself in this way. He's also mad because I don't play politics or act like a lady. _I_ say it is a noble lady's duty to see that those beneath her are treated fairly. I wasn't as if I was sneaking into the plantation myself. Eventually he told me to drop all Twin Lamp's activities, and that if I was caught again he wouldn't protect me from Orvas."  
"Charming."  
"Well, I wasn't going to stop. The slaves that we were siphoning away from Dren plantation were telling us stories. I _know_ Orvas runs the Cammona Tong, but there are hints of some thing worse than skooma and slaves being smuggled. And there are the Ienith brothers. They're mad, both of them. They're Cammona Tong enforcers, the best of the best. And they'd follow Orvas to their graves."

Ilmeni swallowed and clasped her now-empty cup so tightly her knuckles went white, "I got a visit from them. But Marayan enters the story before that. He said that he had been writing to his brothers, and one or the other of them must have mentioned me. When Uncle heard what my father had decreed he got really mad. He went and visited the Duke, to argue in my favour. My Father is pig-headed! He didn't listen to Marayan, so Marayan visited me in Vivec. It was then that the Ienith brothers showed up."  
"Uncle knew why they were there, but he pretended that he didn't. I don't know what their orders were, but they seemed very disappointed that they couldn't carry them out." She shuddered, "They were horrible. They knew who Marayan was, and they didn't dare do anything while he was there. When they left Marayan persuaded me to leave Vivec and come to Balmora where it might be safer. He went back ahead of me; I had to tie up some loose ends with the Twin Lamps. I stayed at the Eight Plates for a while; I had a contact in the Thieves' Guild so I could still keep tabs on the Cammona Tong. They found me eventually though.  
"They just went in, bold as brass and kidnapped me! They were just local toughs though, so when my Thieves' Guild contact noticed I was missing he rounded up his friends. When they were moving me from underneath the Council Club to Vivec-knows-where the Guild ambushed the group and busted me out. They were ever so brave!" Her eyes shone and Winterbell smiled and wondered just how close she was to this 'contact' of hers.  
"When I got back I discovered Marayan had gone off to look for me. I remember him talking about you; he said that you held off a whole room full of Cammona Tong guys at once!"  
"Yes, well, I _did_ have a strategic advantage."  
"I've been staying with an associate of the Thieves' Guild, an Altmer. I decided I couldn't do anything by myself, so I've been waiting for you to return. I've been going crazy worrying about Marayan."  
"I see. So you know where he is?"  
"I'm not sure, but I do know most of the Cammona Tong hideouts in the area. If they recognize him they won't kill him, I'm sure. I'll do anything I can to help."  
"All right. Give me your best guess."  
"Other than the Council Club, and I'm sure the Guild would know if he's there, the nearest big Cammona Tong base is in Hla Oad. They also control a lot of caves in the Bitter Coast swamps."  
"Well, if he's not in Hla Oad presumably they'd know where he is. Assuming he hasn't been eaten by a netch or something." Winterbell noticed the look on Ilmeni's face, "I'm just joking. I'm sure he's more than capable of fending off a netch. Let's get you kitted up."  
"Kitted?"  
"I'm not taking a defenceless noblewoman into a Cammona Tong base. You think you could handle wearing armor?"  
Ilmeni stood up straight, "If I can't I'll just have to learn!"  
Winterbell shook her head, "I hope we find Dren soon. Your youthful enthusiasm is making my head ache."

"The Tong already know me." Winterbell said as she rummaged through various chests, "So as much as I dislike it I'll probably wear some armor as well. How about this?" She held up a chitin cuirass.  
Ilmeni was struggling to get into a pair of netch leather greaves, "I'm sure it will be fine, but I'm not sure about these-"  
"Undo the straps first you silly girl."  
"Oh, sorry. Hey, those look good."  
"It's Dark Brotherhood armor. Quite rare in Morrowind."  
"You're in the Dark Brotherhood?" Ilmeni asked her eyes wide.  
"Of course not. I found a complete set in the local smith's. No idea how it got there. He was rather reluctant to part with it."

Ilmeni declared that she could make the armor fit better, and so Winterbell handed it over and enchanted Ilmeni some weapons.  
"You can have the crossbow, it's easier to use than a longbow; you just pull the trigger. And here, have these."  
"Silver daggers?"  
"I enchanted them myself. I'll never use them, so they're yours."

Winterbell let Ilmeni flail about with her new weapons for a while as she brewed some more potions.  
"I feel like a real adventurer!" Ilmeni was resplendent in her mismatched armor.  
Winterbell scowled, "Just remember that you're not. I'll do my best to keep you alive, but I'm not a miracle worker."  
"Right," she practically saluted.  
"Well, the Brotherhood armor will disguise me. All I have for you is this fur helm. It won't cover your face though. We'll just have to make the best of it."  
"You look really fearsome."  
"That's because you can't actually see any of me. Hopefully it will impress the Tong."

The pair left Balmora as unobtrusively as possible. They planned to walk along the bank of the Odai and then cut towards Hla Oad. Winterbell did her best to pass on as much information as possible to the younger woman.  
"Do you think spring will be here soon?" Ilmeni peered hopefully at the grey sky.  
"Given the luck I've been having recently," Winterbell squinted along an arrow at a cliff racer, "I'd say it's already here."  
"Wow, you hit them every single time!" She exclaimed, as the dead bird drifted to earth.  
"I've had a _lot_ of practice. You try."

Winterbell had never been to Hla Oad before, but in her eyes one collection of shacks in a swamp looked much like another. The journey had been somewhat slower than expected, as they were both unused to wearing armor, and they arrived at their destination around midmorning.

As Winterbell had hoped, her choice of armor meant that she was generally given a wide berth by most people. Ilmeni informed her that the Cammona Tong hideout was beneath a rather nondescript shack adorned with a sign; "Fatleg's Drop-Off".  
"All right, I'll do the talking. The Cammona Tong and the Dark Brotherhood aren't exactly friendly, but they're not exactly enemies either. And they shouldn't ask too many questions."  
"What should I do?"  
"Look tough and mean, and keep an eye out for your uncle. If things get nasty we pull out rather than take on the lot of them."

Winterbell said not a word to the people inside the Drop-Off. She pulled open the trapdoor and climbed down as if she owned the place. Ilmeni followed, trying hard to look fearsome.

The cavern underneath the Drop-Off was not very extensive. There were a few barrels and boxes, but it obviously wasn't a storehouse. The toughs who leant watchfully against the damp stone walls regarded the pair with open hostility, and Winterbell's Dark Brotherhood armor inspired little more than wariness. They were on their home turf and they knew it.

There was a Khajiit slave there as well, looking rather miserable. Winterbell ignored her, and hoped Ilmeni was doing the same. Winterbell didn't like the fact that the only exit was a trapdoor, and that there were several people between her and it. It was a lovely place for a trap.

Winterbell stalked up to the Dunmer near the slave, assuming he was close enough to being in charge.  
"What business does the Brotherhood have with the Tong?" His tone was less than friendly.  
"We're looking for someone. He's Dunmer, mid forties, long red hair, and black netch leather armor."  
"That don't narrow it down." The Dark Elf seemed less hostile once he realized Winterbell's business didn't concern him. "Try the other caves. The captains there might have heard of this bloke. What's he done anyway?"  
"He's gotten himself in to rather a lot of trouble."  
"Rather him than me," he shrugged.  
Winterbell turned to go. It was obvious they couldn't be hiding Marayan in that cave, and it didn't appear that the elf was lying. She jerked her head, indicating to Ilmeni that it was time to leave.

Winterbell's plans weren't exactly the best-laid, but no amount of planning could have prepared them for what happened next.

The Khajiit had been watching the conversation intently. When Winterbell turned to go she gave a kind of despairing yowl and called something incoherent about the light and a lamp. Ilmeni instinctively turned, but Wintebell got a firm grip on her arm and practically shoved her ahead towards the trapdoor. The dark elf moved to smack the slave down. Winterbell was making for the exit as fast as possible while keeping an eye on the drama behind her.

With a speed and strength born of despair and hate, the slave raked her claws down her captor's face.  
"Lady Dren, please!" The slave called.  
"Ignore her!" Winterbell hissed.  
"But I-" Ilmeni was practically crying.  
"Lady Dren, is it?" A voice grated from behind Winterbell. There was a sickening thud as the slave hit the stone floor.

Winterbell turned just in time to see the steel mace descend upon her head. There was a crack as steel met skull, Winterbell's vision faded from blooming red to black.

The pain returned first. Waves of throbbing red upon which Winterbell's consciousness drifted. The pain in her head eventually subsided enough for Winterbell to realize the ache in her arms. There was a buzzing sound; someone was calling her name.

She could smell smoke. It was thick enough to be eye watering, but not quite thick enough to mask the more unpleasant smells that lay beneath it. With a groan of protest, she opened her eyes.

And wished she hadn't. Ilmeni's terrified face was not the most reassuring sight.  
"Please wake up. Winterbell!" She whispered urgently.  
Winterbell sighed and opened her eyes. She felt extremely ill, and her vision blurred.  
"That was quite a blow to the head," she said fuzzily, "I feel terrible."  
"They've taken us to another cave. The slave is around somewhere too."  
"Great. When I get my hands on that blasted animal I'll wring her furry neck." Winterbell managed to snarl.  
"She was just trying to escape. Do you know the conditions they keep slaves in?"  
"Yes. Intimately." Winterbell's glare could have cracked rock. "Since we appear to be experiencing it first-hand." Winterbell shook her head, to try and dispel the fuzziness and was nearly sick. "What the hell is wrong with me? Did they drug us? You don't seem to be in bad shape."  
"I think they just knocked us out."  
"Then why-" Winterbell looked up, to where her hands were chained above her head.

It wasn't the iron shackles that caused her to go pale however; it was the slave manacle that gleamed malevolently in the fetid dark. For the first time in many months, Winterbell's magicka was completely drained.

This time she really was sick.

* * *

A/N: The slave manacles in-game are rather unconvincing. They only drain a few points, so I've altered them slightly to drain a few points _constantly_. So after a few hours even Winterbell's stocks of magicka are exhausted. 


	22. In Hot Water

A/N: Morrowind, Bethesda. You know the drill. Due to various things like housemates leaving, I am currently without net. This chapter is coming to you via a complicated process involving a USB memory stick and good friends. I actually have the next chapter written but not proofread; alas I don't know when I'll be in a position to post it. I thank you for your patience. - D

"I notice they didn't give you a slave bracer." Winterbell still felt like death warmed up, but had cudgeled her tired brain into some type of alertness.  
"I think they know who you are," explained Ilmeni, "They were talking about a Dunmer uh- woman who is a powerful sorceress. She attacks storage caves and kills people, I gather."  
"Yeah, that sounds like me. They're probably keeping me alive only because they want to know what I was doing with you." Winterbell tried futilely to pull her boney hands though the iron manacles. Eventually she gave up. "I don't suppose you have any bright ideas?"  
"Actually, it's not an idea so much as a thing." Ilmeni started hitching herself up, trying to get her head within reach of her manacled hands. "I have a lock pick." She gritted her teeth as her fingers finally came in contact with the complicated bun that held her coppery hair up.

Winterbell watched her apprehensively, straining her ears in case someone came past.  
"Nearly…there." Ilmeni's hair fell free from its confinement, and to Winterbell's infinite relief, the noblewoman had the pick clutched triumphantly in her hand. "I'm not quite sure how to use it though," she tried rather awkwardly to fit the pick into the lock.  
"Don't do that!" Winterbell looked horrified, "You'll break it. Here, give it to me."  
"How?"  
"Throw it. Carefully."

Ilmeni didn't look to happy, but couldn't think of a better solution. She bit her lip as she tried to line up the shot.  
"Easy does it- ow! Good shot!" The pick hit Winterbell's cheek, probably a bit harder than was absolutely necessary. Winterbell twisted her head down and attempted to grab the pick in her teeth from where it rested on her armor near her collar bone. Ilmeni shook her head in quiet despair.  
"There's someone coming," Ilmeni hissed. Winterbell swore quietly, but continued her attempts to get the pick. With a grunt of triumph Winterbell lifted her head, the pick between her lips.  
"Hurry!"

Winterbell pulled herself up and passed the thin piece of metal to her hands. Then she let her head loll, as if she were still knocked out, just as a pockmarked Dunmer in a greasy robe strode in.

Ilmeni glared venomously at him and tried to kick him in the shin as he went past. He kicked her back, but his shoes made little impression on her armor.

"You're just lucky we have to keep you in one piece for the Boss," he growled, "I can't say your ancient friend here will be as fortunate." He gave Winterbell a kick as well, for good measure. Winterbell groaned and kept up her pretence of unconsciousness.

Ilmeni spat at him, as he kept out of range of her boots. He grinned maliciously at her and walked out, promising her something nasty for dinner.  
"He's gone," Ilmeni whispered.

Winterbell sighed, "And I was enjoying the rest as well. Okay, I should be able to take the manacles off, even though I'm no expert. This bracer isn't coming off with anything less than the correct key though. Until I get some magicka back I'm going to be pretty useless, I'm afraid."

Ilmeni nodded and watched Winterbell carefully insert the pick. After a nerve-wracking minute there was a satisfying clunk and Winterbell gratefully let her arms fall down.

Winterbell allowed herself the luxury of a minute's rest, and then she crawled unsteadily over to Ilmeni. It was much easier to pick a lock when you could see what you were doing, and Ilmeni was soon gratefully rubbing her wrists.  
"Got anything else that's useful?" Winterbell was going through the pouches on her belt. To her disappointment they'd been thoroughly cleaned out, their helms had been removed, but they still had their armor. Ilmeni did the same, but only shrugged and shook her head.

Winterbell sat against the wall, her head still pounding. The effort taken to crawl across the cramped room was enough to make her nauseous again.  
"What spells have you got?" she asked, her voice muffled by her hands.  
"I have light…and invisibility, and charm, although I'm not very good at it. I can cure common diseases and I can summon an ancestral ghost."  
"Invisibility's useful. All right, I don't like this plan much, but at this point I'm going to slow you down. I'll hide…somewhere, I'm pretty good at hiding, and this armor will help. You try and find our stuff, but don't worry if you can't. Collect anything useful, especially weapons and magical items. Try not to let them see you. It goes without saying that we need the slave key, but I doubt you'll find that just lying around."

Ilmeni nodded, and helped Winterbell up. After ascertaining that the coast was clear the pair made a dash for a collection of barrels and crates. Ilmeni was practically carrying Winterbell.  
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, her eyes full of worry as Winterbell collapsed on the floor, her eyes closed.  
"Just… find the bloody key!"

After Ilmeni had left Winterbell curled up in a shadow and slipped in and out of uneasy fever-dreams. Baladas was insisting that there was a key that would defeat Gotheren, but Winterbell had already sold it to Marayan. Winterbell wandered endless corridors, occasionally meeting Marayan, but never quite managing to buy the object back.

An unknown amount of time had passed when Winterbell was roughly shaken awake. Ilmeni crouched in front of her, a sack at her feet.  
"They've noticed we've escaped," she whispered urgently, "I couldn't find the key, I'm sorry."  
Winterbell rubbed her eyes, "What did you get?"  
"I got some rings. And some scrolls, I didn't know if it would be useful but-" she held up a greater soul gem. "I got a scroll of soultrap as well."  
"Well done," Winterbell chose a couple rings and put them on. They were by far inferior to her normal spells, but were better than nothing. "No weapons?"  
"I found a few daggers. Do you want them?"  
"No. I'll stick with the rings. If it comes to a fight we're dead anyway."  
"Oh, and there's this weird thing…" Ilmeni held up a strange little statuette. Winterbell snarled, and with an effort struck it from her hand. It shattered on the stone floor.  
"Ash?" Ilmeni poked at the remains.  
"It's a Sixth House Icon of some kind. I've come across a few of them in bandit caves."  
"My uncle is involved in the Sixth House?" Ilmeni was horrified. "How could he let the Tong deal with those…monsters? And then he turns around and blames the empire for the blight!"  
"Shh! Look, maybe he's possessed?" Winterbell suggested hopefully. Ilmeni did not look cheered.  
"Anyway, I found a way out. I think it leads to another cave, or maybe a tomb."  
"A tomb would be good. Is the door locked?"  
"Yes, but I found a scroll of locksplitter."  
"Heh. And I always thought those things were useless. Let's get moving before the search over here."

The pair made their way through the bandit cave, crouching behind crates and keeping to the shadows. They were within sight of the mouldy wooden door with the alarm was raised. They had been spotted.

Winterbell snatched the scroll of locksplitter and ran for the door, while Ilmeni summoned her ghost. An arrow whizzed past Winterbell's ear as the door unlocked. The pair dashed through and slammed the door behind them. Winterbell pulled the lockpick from her pocket and jammed it into the lock. There was some scratching from the other side of the door, but the bandits weren't, it seemed, too keen on trying to knock the door down.

"Why aren't they coming though?" asked Ilmeni curiously. Winterbell chuckled grimly.  
"This is a Sixth House base," she said, motioning towards some red candles that guttered and flickered on the stone floor. Strange sounds floated out from the bowels of the cave. Ilmeni shuddered,  
"I'm scared."  
"Okay, this is what we're going to do. We're going to find ourselves and ash zombie. I'll cast the soultrap scroll on it. We're going to have to go out through the bandit cave, obviously, but I don't see why we shouldn't try and up our offensive capabilities first."  
"Is that really going to work?"  
"I doubt it. But what other choice do we have?"

Neither of them mentioned the possibility of surrender.

Ilmeni cast her invisibility spell and scouted ahead. She returned looking rather ill to report that there was a hideous creature standing near some sinister-looking bells.  
"It was swollen and rotting. I think it was once a person though."  
"Lame corprus. Dangerous but slow. Even better than a zombie."  
"We- we're going to attack that thing?"  
"It's the only kind thing to do, really. There is no cure for corprus other than death."

Ilmeni gritted her teeth and nodded grimly. She drew her steel dagger. It was wickedly sharp, but looked a meagre threat. They peered around the corner at the grotesque creature and Winterbell fired off both her rings. The magicka slammed into the beast, and it turned with a howl of rage and started lumbering towards them. Again Ilmeni summoned her ghost, and cast her rings.

Winterbell and Ilmeni flanked the beast, doing their best to stay out of the way of its huge fists. Ilmeni slashed again and again with her dagger while Winterbell exhausted the scanty magicka in her rings.

Winterbell was reduced to punching the creature when it finally groaned and fell. There was a comforting whooshing sound, and Winterbell knew that the soul had been successfully trapped.

Ilmeni sank to the floor, gasping for breath and looking ill. Winterbell was keeping herself upright by willpower alone. Ilmeni's dagger was looking very much worse for wear.  
"You have a second dagger?"  
"It's only chitin," she replied miserably.

Winterbell stalked about, not wishing to waste the soul they had expended so much energy procuring. She kicked one of the bells, which rang hollowly. Ilmeni started,  
"What about the other creatures?"  
"From what I've seen they're not that bright."  
Winterbell's eye fell upon a bell hammer that was propped against the rack of chimes. With some effort she hefted it onto her shoulder. She smiled,  
"Now _this_ will do some damage." She let it fall onto the floor with a dull thump and pulled out the soul gem.

Ilmeni watched as Winterbell guided the glowing soul into the hammer. The lines of tiredness and pain left her face as she concentrated. Finally the soul gem crumbled to dust and drifted away. On the floor in front of the mage the bell hammer gleamed malevolently. Winterbell hauled herself to her feet and raised the weapon in tired triumph,  
"I dub thee, Sixth House Glory!"  
"That's…I don't like that name much," Ilmeni ventured.  
"You don't have to. Now, the longer we wait the worse I'm going to feel, so we're going to bust out through the Tong's cave. Are your rings charged yet?"  
"Mostly. Wait- what about the slave?"  
"The one who got us into this mess? She can rot for all I care." Winterbell snarled, working herself up for the fight ahead. "How did she know who you were anyway?"  
"I'm a figurehead for the Twin Lamps. The fact that the daughter of the Duke is on their side gives the slaves hope, even if they can't escape. I must confess, I allowed them to use my likeness on some of the literature. Most slaves can't read, you see."  
"Right." Winterbell strode for the door.  
"We can't just leave her," Ilmeni pleaded.  
"If she's on our way we can grab her, but I'm not slowing down for anyone."

Winterbell eased the pick from the lock and listened. There were shuffling sounds from outside; guards had been posted. Winterbell gathered her strength, and kicked the door open, Ilmeni at her heels.

As the door swung open Winterbell stepped through, and with one smooth movement smashed her hammer into the head of the guard leaning against the wall. He fell without a sound. Unprepared for the assault, the other guard had no time to move before Ilmeni's rather nicked dagger was at his throat.  
"Not a sound," the noblewoman hissed. Winterbell stepped over the corpse and wrapped her fingers around the other guard's neck. He groaned and crumpled.  
"I'm feeling generous," she said with a humourless smile, "he'll be round in a minute though."

They crept through the now-familiar twists and turns of the cave. They were on a corridor that was sloping promisingly upward when voices drifted from a cavern off the side.  
"…her as soon as possible. She's a liability now that she knows what happened to Lady Dren."  
"I'll take her to Balmora now."  
"Good, leave now. One less thing to worry about."  
"Shouldn't we go after Lady Dren though?"  
"Nah, if she's got any sense she'll stay near the door. If she doesn't she'll die. She'll get hungry eventually, and if the old hag dies…all for the better."

The second speaker walked out of the room. Ilmeni and Winterbell crouched in the shadows.  
"He's going to get the slave. He'll lead us right to her."  
Winterbell sighed, "All right then. On your own head be it."

They followed the Dunmer at a discreet distance. He was wearing an Imperial dragonscale helm, and the steel glittered in the smoky light. He disappeared into another small cave and there was the sound of keys rattling. Ilmeni watched the doorway with bated breath, while Winterbell took a quick look in the crates and barrels they were hiding behind.  
"Jackpot!" Winterbell whispered triumphantly. She had found her goods. She pulled on her helm, and handed Ilmeni hers. She took her bow and arrows and several potions of restore magicka. There was no time to collect the rest.

The Dunmer reappeared, this time with the slave in tow. She looked rather worse for wear; she had been punished for her earlier transgression, that much was clear. At Ilmeni's insistence Winterbell slithered forward in the shadow, her hammer raised.

A misstep and she kicked a pebble. The Dunmer turned at the sound. Winterbell swung.  
"No! Stop!" Ilmeni grabbed her arm. "Uncle?"

A/N: I've yet to come across a door joining a bandit cave and a Sixth House base, but they are nestled pretty closely together in the Bitter Coast Swamps. Call it artistic licence. -D


	23. Flight and Freedom

Ok, after a month of being messed around we have net again. See my lj for the full story if you care. I can only aplologise again and upload the next couple of chapters quickly. -D

* * *

Winterbell's swing went wild and the hammer thumped into the cavern floor. The Dunmer started and went for his shortsword but stopped when Ilmeni stepped into the light.  
"Ilmeni!" His voice was recognizably that of Marayan's. The slave behind him gave a joyful mewl.  
"Do you have the key to the slave bracer?" Ilmeni asked urgently. From further down in the cave shouting began to issue; the guard had woken up.  
"Not for the slave, she's from a different base. I do have the one for- is that really you under there, Winterbell?" Marayan fumbled for the key attached to his belt while staring at what appeared to be a Dark Brotherhood assassin with a Sixth House weapon.

Winterbell pulled off her helm and shoved her hair out of her face, "You'd better believe it," she said tiredly.  
"We've been spotted!" Ilmeni yelled, as the pockmarked Dunmer ran back into the bowels of the cave, yelling for help. Marayan fitted the key into the slave bracer and Winterbell was downing a potion before it had had time to hit the ground.  
"Give me you bow," the slave rather timidly held out her hand. Winterbell raised an eyebrow, but handed her the weapon and unslung her quiver. "Thank you, mistress,"  
"We keep going up until we get to a cavern with some stairs, turn right and we're free." Marayan was casting a shielding spell on Ilmeni and on the slave.  
Winterbell grinned viciously, "Just give me one free shot." Magicka was already beginning to build up around her hands.

The Tong had regrouped, and arrows started whizzing around the group, a couple fizzing against Marayan's shielding spell. Winterbell's hands blazed with magical glow. Marayan began leading the others upwards through the cavern, but glanced back to see the result of Winterbell's spell.

The spell finally left her hands, a ball of frost almost as wide as the cavern itself hurtled towards the Group of bandits. In its wake ice gleamed on the walls of the cave. The Tong ducked, but in vain. As the spell burst on an outcrop of rock the blast radius filled every nook and cranny with magical cold. Screams accompanied the blast of cold air that followed the fleeing party.  
"Wow," Ilmeni stared at Winterbell, who was slugging back another potion such was the cost of the spell she had cast. The slave fired arrows behind them, more to discourage pursuit than to actually hit anything.

Marayan led the party through the twists and turns of the cavern, his shortsword drawn and gleaming in his hand. The remainder of the Tong between them and the exit had heard the commotion below, but were not prepared for four armed people barreling through them. Those who avoided Marayan's blade, swung much more skillfully now, Winterbell noted, met either Ilmeni's dagger or Winterbell's frost. The foursome didn't stop to fight, but ran on, the slave's bow discouraging pursuit.

"Boss!" Marayan skidded to a halt in surprise.  
"You! Traitor!" The boss wasn't actually a Dunmer, but an Orc. He skillfully parried Marayan's sword with a wicked looking axe. The slave gave a yelp of fear. Magicka was dancing around Winterbell's fingers, but Marayan was faster, his other hand came up and lightning crackled around the Orc's head. He recoiled instinctively, and Marayan grabbed Ilmeni's hand and pulled her on.  
"I guess a reference is out of the question?" he called back. Winterbell chuckled and swung the hammer as she and the slave hustled past. The Orc took the attack on the arm, and there was a crack of breaking bone.

Marayan kicked the cavern door open and beckoned the party on. Winterbell paused, and with a flourish, magically locked the door behind them. There was a slam as someone ran full tilt into it.

Gasping for breath, their pace slowed to a jog, and Marayan lead them along a roundabout route through the swamp. Winterbell had reclaimed her bow and was taking down any cliff racers that might have called attention to their location.  
"Lady Dren," the slave groaned and suddenly fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. Ilmeni ran to kneel beside the Kaijit, and the slave muttered something in her ear.  
"She needs medical help," Ilmeni looked up pleadingly.  
"What's wrong with her? Was she hit?" asked Marayan. Winterbell scowled impatiently.  
"She's a mule. They made her swallow bags of moon sugar for someone in Balmora. We need to get her to the Argonian Mission in Ebonheart."  
"There's a boat to Ebonheart from Gnaar Mok, stopping at Hla Oad," Winterbell reported. "Where the hell are we anyway?"  
"Gnaar Mok is that way," Marayan pointed, "I was going to try and get us to Balmora, but it would be quicker to take a boat."  
"We'll have to lay low until the boat is ready to leave though, the Tong will be looking for us."  
"There's an abandoned shack to the south of the town. We can watch for both the Tong and the boat from there. Ilmeni," Marayan turned to his niece, "you accompany...uhh..."  
"Rabinna, master Dren," the slave supplied.  
"You accompany Rabinna to Ebonheart and _stay there_. I know you aren't on the best terms with your father, but I think it would be the safest place to be."  
"But the Tong. Surely you know that they're dealing with the Sixth House."  
"I know. And I agree something has to be done. But not by you, it's too dangerous. Both Winterbell and I have risked our lives for you already."  
Ilmeni looked rather miserable, but nodded her agreement nonetheless.

The party moved much more slowly, Ilmeni staying at Rabinna's side to offer support if necessary. The sun was setting by the time Winterbell was satisfied that the shack was safe. There was a boat docked at the tiny Gnaar Mok wharf, but it appeared to be waiting for the tide before it could leave.

The shack was rather crowded when all four of them trooped in. Ilmeni insisted that Rabinna lie down on the rather mouldy hammock. The abolitionist started going through crates in an attempt to find something to eat. Marayan took a seat at the cluttered bench and looked up at Winterbell who was watching the gathering dark.  
"Thank you," he said. Winterbell looked back at him. "For looking after my niece," he explained.  
"Ahh, well," Winterbell gave a rare smile, "she looked after me as well."  
Ilmeni looked like she was going to burst with pride.

Winterbell said that it was much too crowded in the small shack, and that she was going to brave the insects and keep an eye on the boat from the verandah. She wandered out and collapsed tiredly into an old chair that creaked alarmingly under her weight.

The final orange streaks of sunset were fading from the sky above the western mountains when Marayan wandered out with some bread and herbs.  
"You're not asleep, are you?" he asked quietly.  
"Not quite." Winterbell stirred from her reverie and took one of the plates.  
"There was some scuttle in there too, but Ilmeni wants Rabinna to have it." He perched on a barrel next to Winterbell, the plate balanced rather precariously on the railing.  
"She's a very impressive young lady."  
"And you're a very impressive…uhh…slightly older one."  
Winterbell chuckled, "The word you want is old, Dren. I'm not afraid of it."  
Marayan pulled off the dragonscale helm with obvious relief, "I've been wearing this horrible thing so long I almost forgot about it," he said, pulling his hair back into its customary ponytail.  
"I can't say I'll be sorry to get rid of this," Winterbell gestured down at the Brotherhood armour she still wore.  
"Where did you get that anyway? Or don't I want to know."  
"Don't worry; I merely bought it from a local smith."

Marayan scratched at the stubble on his chin. His face was grimy and a bit thinner, and Winterbell noticed that he wore his armour easily.  
"You've changed quite a bit," she noted.  
"I'm in disguise as a bandit, what do you expect?"  
"That's not a disguise, Dren. I saw the way you handled your blade, that's quite an improvement."  
"Uhh, thanks. I've been practicing. With all that's been happening…I felt I needed to."  
"You won't beat your brother, Dren. He's been a fighter all his life."  
"Maybe not with just a sword. But I've seen you fight with magic, armour becomes a hindrance when fighting you."  
"So Estir was right? _I'm_ the one encouraging you to become an adventurer now?"  
"This isn't about fighting for fun, or money or glory. It's my duty as a Dren."  
"You're starting to sound like your niece."  
"Winterbell, what's your family name?"  
Winterbell's face closed down, as if a mask had been placed over it. "I don't remember," she said flatly.  
Marayan bowed his head, "I'm sorry. I had no right to pry." He picked up his plate and walked back inside.

A while later Winterbell thumped on the side of the shack. "Looks like the boat's leaving soon," she called. The others walked out, Rabinna stretching gingerly.  
"Are you coming with us?" Ilmeni asked.  
Winterbell shook her head, "I have business in Balmora."  
"And I need to talk to Ranis," Marayan said, without enthusiasm.  
"Well, thank you, thank you both." Ilmeni reached up and hugged her uncle, who hugged her back with a paternal smile.  
"Stay safe," he said.  
"And Winterbell, "Ilmeni hovered rather uncertainly in front of the mage, "thank you so much, I know I've been a burden-"  
Winterbell stretched out a hand, "You held your own, kid. You held your own."

Ilmeni stretched out her hand, and then changed her mind, instead bending down and giving the surprised mage a hug. Marayan hid his smile at the look on Winterbell's face as she uncertainly patted Ilmeni on the shoulder.  
"Uhh…you'll miss your boat."  
"Oh, right."  
"Lady Winterbell-" Rabinna began.  
Winterbell held up her hand, "Thank her, don't thank me."  
"Go," Marayan said, "I'll see you soon. And watch out for the Tong."

The elder Dunmer watched the pair leave, weapons close in case the Tong tried anything, but Ilmeni and Rabinna boarded without incident. Winterbell watched the boat pull away with a sigh of relief. She started chuckling, and Marayan regarded her curiously.  
"What's so funny?"  
"All of this. Ilmeni gets kidnapped, you go off to rescue her, but she doesn't need rescuing because she's already helped by the thieves guild. We charge off to rescue you, even though you're doing fine as part of the Tong. We get caught, I assume you were off to Balmora to get help, but we rescue ourselves, all the time assuming you're a prisoner in another cavern. It's just so…funny." Her laughter had a hysterical edge to it, and Marayan looked worried.  
"Winterbell-"  
"All right, I'm all right." Winterbell rested her head on the verandah railing, "I'm just very tired. If you don't count being knocked out I haven't had any sleep in three days."  
"What's been happening?"  
"All kinds of things. Ranis is making an attempt to get rid of me, a friend of mine has discovered that I killed his former flame. Wonderful things."  
"What! Winterbell, how do you get yourself into these messes?"  
"I have no idea." Winterbell seemed about to go to sleep right there on the verandah.  
"Winterbell, do you still have that mark spell cast? You need to get some sleep, and it's not safe here."  
"I know," Winterbell dragged herself to her feet, "Do you have everything?"  
"The helm can stay here. Let's go home."  
Winterbell raised her hands, preparing to cast, "Hang on."  
Marayan hovered around her awkwardly for a moment, trying to work out how he could hang on without messing up the spell. Eventually he stepped around behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Winterbell inhaled sharply.  
"Like this?" he asked next to her ear.  
Her eyes narrowed, "That'll do." Then the world lurched sideways.

Winterbell staggered slightly as they arrived on her hearth rug, but Marayan held her up. He looked around the room with an approving nod,  
"You've really got some nice stuff."  
"Thanks." Winterbell stood stiffly, waiting for him to let her go. He didn't.  
"Winterbell, do you remember the first night you came to the Mage's Guild?" He smiled, "You fell asleep talking to Estir. I ended up carting to you a bed."  
"I'm not asleep now, Dren," Winterbell replied tonelessly.  
"Right." He stepped back, "I'm going to get some sleep. I'll face Ranis tomorrow."  
"Good luck." Winterbell sat down and started tugging off one of her mud encrusted boots.  
Marayan looked back from the doorway, "Goodnight, Winterbell, and thank you again."  
"Goodnight."


	24. Double oh Nothing

Winterbell decided that her next priority was resolving the issue of the Telvanni spy in the Mage's Guild. Winterbell half expected to find out that he or she didn't actually exist, and that this was merely an attempt by Ranis to get rid of her.

Winterbell still felt gnawing guilt with regards to Baladas, but didn't really have any ideas as to how to resolve the situation. She thought about going to Aryon with the problem, but wisely decided that this was between them alone. Winterbell also wanted to get her hands on the mysterious staff again, but whether or not that would eventuate was entirely up to Baladas. Winterbell hoped he hadn't destroyed the artifact in a rage.

Winterbell went back to the Mage's Guild the next day, just in time to hear Marayan get a dressing down by Ranis. As much as Winterbell felt sorry for the mage, it was a good distraction and she slipped in without catching Ranis's eye.

"Telvanni spy?" Estirdalin played absently with an earring as she thought. "I thought it was just a rumor. I'm afraid I haven't heard anything more than that." The Altmer looked quite disappointed that she hadn't been able to help. Now that Marayan was back, and the story of his niece being 'troubled by some bandits' had come out, Estirdalin was quite happy to talk to Winterbell again and assumed that the trouble was over.

"Why do _you_ care?" Sharn grunted.  
Winterbell narrowed her eyes, "Because it's my job. Besides, I'm not keen on having a Telvanni spy in the Guild."  
"I'll bet you're not," the Orc smirked.  
"Stop it you two," Ajira hissed quietly, "you'll cause a fuss."  
"Why are you on her side anyway?" Sharn asked Ajira angrily. The three of them were grouped around Sharn's workbench. Estirdalin was dreadfully curious but Ajira shot her a sharp look when she got too close, and she retreated.  
"Because she's a friend. I believe her when she says that she'll do her best for us. She's never let her Telvanni connections hurt us."  
"So she says," Sharn said scornfully. Ajira sighed and shook her head. Winterbell was about to reply when there was a whoosh of magicka and Masaline bounced cheerfully into the conversation,  
"What's going on?"  
"I need to find out if there really is a Telvanni spy," Winterbell explained before Sharn had a chance to get a word in.  
"Ooh, that sounds exciting. Hmm…let me think. I'm sorry, I just don't know."  
"I didn't really expect that you would," Winterbell said quietly.  
"But if _I_ was a spy," Masaline continued brightly, "I'd probably be in Sadrith Mora, 'cause that's where all the Telvanni are."  
"That's actually a good idea," Winterbell fought to keep the surprise out of her voice.  
"You want me to take you there?" she asked.  
"That's very kind of you, Masaline."  
Masaline cast her spell and Ajira and Estirdalen chorused 'Good luck'.

When she arrived at Wolverine Hall Winterbell went straight to Skink, to hear his side of the story. Despite the fact that he was technically not in charge of the Guildhall, he seemed the most experienced mage there. He also appeared to enjoy Winterbell's company, and the Dunmer always made sure she had some interesting news to tell, since the Guildhall was so isolated.

Winterbell retailed the results, or lack of, of her investigations and Skink scratched his scaly head.  
"Well, Wolverine Hall is the obvious place, I agree," he looked around the tiny guildhall, "But I can't imagine anyone here being a spy. Not that that's any reason to discount anyone, of course. But if you want my opinion, I don't think the spy would be here. Because we're so isolated there wouldn't be a lot of point. The best place for a spy would be where the decisions are made."  
"Vivec."  
"Indeed. That's just a guess of course."  
"It's a good one. Thank you for your time."

Winterbell arrived in Vivec deep in thought. There wasn't much she could do with the information she had, but she couldn't help but second guess herself. Winterbell didn't know anyone particularly well in Vivec and so she went and talked to Sirilonwe simply because she seemed the least busy.

The answer was unequivocal.

"It's that advisor of Trebonius's. Tiram Gadar. He came highly recommended, apparently. But he's not one of us, that's for sure."

Winterbell felt that this was hardly a damming accusation, but nevertheless she decided that the mysterious adviser was the best candidate so far. She asked around a bit more, and discovered that most of the other mages shared the Altmer's suspicions.

Winterbell bought some lunch from one of the street vendors and ate it while leaning against the wall of the Foreign Quarter canton. If Gadar was a spy there was a good chance he knew of Winterbell and her position in House Telvanni. Then again, if he was a spy for Aryon or someone who didn't like Gotheren then getting rid of him would be losing a valuable ally.

Winterbell needed more information before showing her hand. The very act of collecting such information would be risky. The odds were any spy worth his salt would already know of her investigations. Still, there was one person who couldn't be the spy, and who wouldn't think too hard about the questions that Winterbell was asking. Winterbell went to talk to Trebonius.

To Winterbell's surprise, Trebonius dismissed the idea of a Telvanni spy in the Guild out of hand. With a vague smile he waved away Winterbell's respectfully phrased suggestions. Winterbell blinked at him, stumped.

Winterbell was still trying to come up with some way of prizing the information out of Trebonius when her eyes met those of a Dunmer sitting in the shadows of a room off to the side. He had a mean, pinched face and he had apparently dyed his hair a peculiar shade of orange, even though his beard was white. His gaze was challenging, direct and less than friendly. Gadar. Winterbell bared her teeth in a humourless smile and turned to Trebonius.  
"I hear you have an advisor, a Tiram Gadar."  
"Ah yes, he's a wonderful advisor." Trebonius apparently made no connection with Winterbell's previous enquiry about a Telvanni spy. "He was very highly recommended, see?"  
Gadar's eyes flashed angrily as Trebonius proudly pulled some parchment from his robe.  
"Just look at this reference. Why, if I hadn't witnessed Tiram's work with my own eyes I might never have believed it."  
Winterbell barely glanced at the reference itself. Her eyes were fixed on the signature below it. It had been a while since she had paid notice to the Archmages of the cities on the mainland, but she was fairly sure the spelling was wrong.  
"What a remarkable document. May I keep it?"  
"Why yes, of course," Trebonius beamed proudly as Winterbell carefully stored the document in her satchel.

Gadar watched her with thinly veiled hostility as she bid Trebonius farewell. Rather than go straight back to Balmora Winterbell found a chair and pulled out a book, pointedly ignoring Gadar. The spy was not slow to catch on. He scribbled a note and strode out, still looking very unhappy.

Winterbell strolled over and picked up the piece of paper. Written on it in small, cramped handwriting was a single phrase;

_Lizard's Head Cornerclub at six_

Winterbell smiled as she crumpled the note. A single spark of magicka and all that remained in her hand was ash.

Vivec was considered a dead-end for career Telvanni. Most posted there were considered by the bulk of the House in the east to have 'gone imperial'. The Telvanni presence in the city was little more than a formality, from a political point of view. Thus Winterbell's visits to the canton were infrequent although she was accorded due respect when she did stay.

The Lizard's Head Cornerclub was quite full by the time Winterbell arrived at around a quarter to six, but her status within the House ensured that she was shown to an empty table and served speedily. She kept her eyes open, but the fact was that practically everyone in the club looked suspicious in one way or another.

"You came." Winterbell glanced behind her, hiding her surprise at Gadar's sudden appearance. The spy looked only slightly happier than before. Winterbell smiled at him,  
"Well, now I have the reason why the House found out about my Mage's Guild connection so soon."  
"Connection? You're one of the Guild's rising stars. I seem to hear your name all the time, on both sides of the island."  
"How flattering. Sit. We have things to discuss."  
Gadar pulled up a chair and called for some greef. After it was served he sat and glowered.  
"Well, what do you want?"  
Winterbell pulled out the reference and smoothed it out on the table. "What I don't understand-"  
"Trebonius is a fool. The misspelling was deliberate, the result of a bet between my superior and another councillor."  
Winterbell shrugged and put the offending parchment away again. "So you admit that you're the spy?"  
"I'll admit that I'm _a_ spy," he smirked, "but with Trebonius at the helm half the Guild is probably serving other masters."  
"I don't believe that to be the case."  
"There's a Dark Brotherhood spy in Ald'ruhn," he replied smugly, "and of course, there's you."  
"Who do you work for?"  
"House Telvanni."  
Winterbell ground her teeth and enunciated, each word dripping with suppressed rage, "_Which_ Telvanni?"  
"Mistress Dratha," he replied sullenly.  
"I didn't think she employed men," Winterbell said with surprise.  
"This is a punishment post. Do you really think we need to keep an eye on that addle-brained fool? You were the first news of note in all the years I've been smiling and nodding at that crackpot."  
Winterbell was taken aback by the venom in his tone.  
"He's a joke, and he's made the Guild a joke too. Go on, expose me as a spy. I'll be well out of there and we can all have a laugh at Trebonius's expense."  
Winterbell leant back in her chair and surveyed the room thoughtfully, "I think you're lying. I think you were more than happy to get away from Dratha, and I don't say blame you. But you see," she leant forward, "I can report you to Ranis, or I can report you to Dratha. I'm sure she'd love to believe that her weak male subordinate had fallen for imperial ways."  
"Ranis?" Gadar looked horrified.  
"You think I'd be wasting my time with you if I had any choice? I'm merely working under orders here."  
"Ranis would have me killed," he said in a strangled tone. "She's a monster; she wants to be back in Vivec."  
"She was in Vivec?"  
"She was rising just as fast as you are. Trebonius didn't see any problems with her, but everyone else did. The other captains talked him into giving her a promotion, but getting her out of Vivec. They've been blocking her attempts to get back."  
"Hmm…you're not as useless as you look."  
Gadar ignored the insult, "Look, let's make a deal, you don't reveal my position, and I'll get rid of Ranis. There are plenty of Telvanni toughs in Vivec who'd love to take down a Guild captain."  
"Then my information would be all but useless _and_ I'd owe you one. No, leave Ranis to me. I'll tell you what; you can keep your post if you support me in the Guild. No openly, of course; the last thing I want is _your_ endorsement. Just make sure Trebonius doesn't cause me any trouble."  
"The…that's it?"  
"Like I said, I couldn't care less about your reporting to Dratha." Winterbell gave a triumphant little smile, "I've already received her support when I was promoted to Mouth." This half-truth staggered Gadar, who seemed to have given up the fight. Winterbell stood to leave,  
"Just one more thing. Keep in mind that you may not be serving under Trebonius for much longer, so behave." With that parting shot Winterbell departed, leaving Gadar to pay the bill.

Winterbell flagged down a gondola and wondered if she had revealed too much of her hand. She decided that even if she had, the information about Ranis had been worth it. She had regarded Ranis as an annoyance, but it hadn't occurred to her that Ranis's antagonism was based on the fact that they were becoming ever increasingly direct rivals for the position of Archmage.

Winterbell had all the impetus she needed to get rid of Ranis for good.

"Archmage, I have terrible, worrying news! I have discovered that there is a Telvanni spy in the Guild. She's been undermining the authority and the reputation of the Guild for years!"  
"Winterbell, this is terrible if true, are you sure?"  
"Well, let me describe some of the chores that I myself, in my naïve innocence, have done for her. I'm sure the other Guild captains will agree that she has acted in a manner unbefitting of a member of the Mage's Guild."

"Hmm…that was surprisingly easy. I should have done that months ago." Winterbell smiled to herself; it had been a very productive day.


	25. The Perils of Cheating at Monopoly

This is the last of the chapters I wrote while the net was down. Updates should come at regular intervals after this.Morrowind belongs to Bethesda. -D

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Trebonius worked surprisingly fast, but Ranis had been faster. The Archmage had sent messengers to the other Guild captains that very night to confirm Winterbell's allegations. Whether or not they believed Ranis to be a spy, none of them defended her. Trebonius had arranged for some of the Vivec-based mages to remove her the next morning, Winterbell having wisely retreated to Balmora.

The posse had arrived the next day, and caused much excitement at the Balmora Guildhall, but of Ranis there was no sign. Winterbell frowned uneasily from her seat in the corner as the visiting mages explained the situation and wondered if she had underestimated Ranis again.

"Was she really a spy?" Sharn asked accusingly. Ajira stood beside her, a concerned frown on her face.  
"I did what was best for the Guild. I had an opportunity to be rid of her and I took it. She wasn't a _Telvanni_ spy, if that's what you're asking."  
"That's!"  
"Tell me," Winterbell regarded the Orc coolly, "that you would have done something different."  
"Well…" Sharn frowned and looked away.  
"But is there actually a spy?" Ajira asked.  
"Nope," Winterbell replied cheerfully. "Although there are more ties between the Guild and Telvanni than you might think. In more important matters, who's in charge now?"  
Ajira shot a dark look at Galbedir, "Marayan is next in order of superiority."  
"Well then," Winterbell stood, "we should congratulate him."

Marayan looked less than happy as he was presented with the official forms for promotion. The visiting mages stood respectfully to the side as everyone else crowded around Marayan's desk. He shot a quick look at Winterbell and then stood back with a shake of his head.  
"I decline," he declared, "for family reasons." This caused a swirl of comment to ripple over the crowd. "Estir," his voice carried across the hubbub, "it's yours."  
The Almer gasped in surprise and looked about her anxiously, "Me? Really? Well, I…"  
Winterbell gave a sharp smile of approval and from the back of the group began to clap her hands. Marayan nodded and joined in, and soon the guildhall rang with applause. Estirdalin was practically glowing,  
"Thank you, everyone. This is…I can't believe it." She accepted the quill from Marayan and bent to the forms. "Now back to work, everyone," Estirdalin ordered, mock-sternly. There were various expressions of compliance and the group dispersed. Winterbell headed back to her house, deep in thought.

It wasn't Ranis' disappearance that bothered her. She could believe the Dunmer was paranoid enough to have someone in one of the other guildhalls warn her. Ranis' power was sapped and even if she did harbour a desire for revenge, Winterbell was confident in her power to defeat the mage.

No, what irritated her beyond reason was Gadar's diatribe about Trebonius. Winterbell had always regarded the Archmage with curiosity and a mild contempt, but now her anger was building.  
"He's incompetent!" she hissed as she tossed potions into her bag. "He's making us into a laughing stock. If they can't take him seriously they won't take the Guild seriously."

Locked up in their guildhalls, most of the other mages tolerated Trebonius's eccentricities with good humour, but Winterbell was gaining an outsider's view. None of the other mages, with the notable exception of Ranis, appeared to have any kind of ambition to do anything about it. Were they just waiting for the idiot to die of old age? Winterbell ground her teeth and filled her quiver with bundles of iron arrows. Trebonius was going to have to go.  
"Get rid of Ranis, solve the mystery of the Dwemmer. If there's any kind of problem _Winterbell_ can sort it out, it's not as if _we_ need to poke our noses out of our books. Humph!" Winterbell swung the bell hammer over her shoulder, "I'll show them. It's about time they lost a bit of their complacency."

Winterbell went to visit her patron.

Master Aryon welcomed her, courteous as always. Winterbell told him of her successful removal of Ranis, although he was far more interested in what she had to report of Gadar.  
"So Dratha has a spy near Trebonius, and he owes you one. Well done, Winterbell. I'll see what capital I can get out of this from Dratha. She and Gotheren were once close allies, so getting into her good books is a wise move."  
"Anyway," the councillor continued, "I have more urgent business. One of our remote towers is under siege by the Hlaalu thugs. Milyn doesn't seem to think it's terribly important, I gather he is unhurt in the upper tower, but we have to teach those Hlaalu a lesson. I'll draw you a rough map. It's a Velothi dome, and you should have no trouble finding it."  
Winterbell folded the parchment carefully and put it away. Aryon regarded her shrewdly,  
"Something on your mind?"  
"The Mage's Guild." Winterbell didn't elaborate; in fact she was quite uncertain about her feelings for the organisation at that time. Never had its flaws stood out so clearly. She wished rather ruefully that she could talk to Baladas about it.  
"Ah yes, the Guild. At some point we are going to have to prove to the rest of the House that your loyalty lies with us and not them. At the moment that is the most common complaint against you."  
"So I should resign?"  
"I don't think that would help at this stage, although you are free to. No, we need something more tangible."  
"Trebonius' head? It would make an interesting thimble."  
Aryon let out a bark of laughter, "That would certainly be a bold statement. I do have one suggestion, although I don't like it much. Let's just say it doesn't exactly play on your strengths."  
"Let's hear it."  
"You have no doubt heard of the Mage's Guild Monopoly?"  
"Yes, Baladas told me about it."  
"It's not our favourite piece of legislation, let me tell you that much. For the first time in centuries we may have a chance to overturn it. After much negotiating we've secured all the Hlaalu votes on the Grand Council that we can. To overturn the treaty now we need no less than three Redoran councillors to agree to vote in our favour. Now you see why it's not really your area of expertise."  
Winterbell thought back on what Baladas had said about the monopoly, and about Ranis's treatment of the Argonian in the cornerclub. Earlier memories of scraping for a living in Cyrodil also surfaced, like dark and dangerous fish.  
"All right, I'll do my best," she nodded determinedly.  
"Are you sure? I don't mean to insult you, but you seem quite…happy in the Guild."  
"I think in this case I have to be cruel to be kind," Winterbell smiled toothily, "A little competition is healthy, don't you think?"

Winterbell took a boat to Tel Banora and then headed north to look for the besieged Telvanni tower. The attackers were presumably being supplied from Molag Mar, but Winterbell didn't have the patience to try and disrupt them from that end. Instead she waded in with her magic and her bell hammer.

Milyn Faram's undead and demonic guards proved more of a challenge than the unprepared Hlaalu but eventually Winterbell found the mage in the upper tower and collapsed into a chair.  
"Telvanni Spellwright Winterbell at your service," she introduced herself to the surprised mage, who was having lunch.  
"That was quick; I only mentioned the siege to Aryon last week. I suppose I'll have to kill the girl now."  
"Girl?"  
"Well, when I was attacked I decided to be diplomatic. So I kidnapped the sister of the Hlaalu leader, to bargain for my house back. It didn't seem to work though," Faram added, rather dolefully.  
Winterbell sighed, "Diplomacy huh?"  
"You're having problems too?"  
"I have to convince a bunch of Redoran councillors to break the Guild Monopoly."  
"Well, at least they should talk to you, rather than attacking you on sight. Just use some bug musk."  
"Bug…?"  
"They call it _Telvanni_ bug musk for a reason you know."

Winterbell recalled home and spent some time glaring at a fancy green bottle. Winterbell had collected quite a bit of bug musk and for reasons she couldn't articulate had never gotten around to selling it. She took out the stopper and cautiously sniffed.  
"Well _I_ don't see what the fuss is about," she muttered to herself. The contents of the bottle smelt faintly of shalk resin. "Just what kind of bugs are in this anyway?" Rather reluctantly, Winterbell shook out the slightly viscous liquid onto her hands.

People smiled, normally taciturn guards nodded politely, and Winterbell strode through them all with a face like a thundercloud. She knew that if she didn't keep up her anger it would dissolve into embarrassment and she would go straight home for a bath. Winterbell liked to see respect, or even fear in other people's eyes, but certainly not alchemically enhanced friendliness.

Still, she did derive amusement from watching Sharn smile kindly at her then try and work out why. Ajira and Estirdalin seemed unaffected by the musk, presumably because they were already as friendly as they were going to get. Winterbell avoided Marayan, although she wasn't sure why.

"You look nice today Winterbell, is that a new robe?" Masaline asked brightly.  
"Uhh…new-ish," Winterbell replied.  
"It really suits you."  
"Yes, thank you, do you think there's any chance-"  
"Morning Ajira, morning Masaline, morning…uh…" Marayan strode cheerfully into the room, only to trail off when he saw Winterbell.  
"…of a spell to Ald'ruhn?" Winterbell finished, rather tensely.  
"I think Marayan wants to talk to you," Masaline giggled.  
Winterbell shot a flinty glance behind her. In fact Marayan didn't seem capable of saying much at all, he just stood there with a rather glassy expression. Winterbell pinched the bridge of her nose in embarrassment.

Seizing his upper arm Winterbell frogmarched the stunned mage into the next room and hissed at him angrily,  
"Snap out of it, for Vivec's sake!"  
To her surprise, he did. His gaze sharpened and he smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry. I really should act my age, shouldn't I?"  
"It's not your fault," Winterbell muttered.  
"Were you disappointed?"  
Winterbell glanced up at him quickly, "About what?"  
"Refusing the position as guildhall captain."  
"Not at all, I think you made a very sensible decision. You won't want to be bothered by Guild politics with your family the way it is now."  
He nodded, "With Estir as guildhall captain I shouldn't have any problems securing some time off to talk to my brothers."  
"Anyway, I have business in Ald'ruhn, so if you'll excuse me-" Winterbell turned to go.  
"Wait." Marayan placed his hand on the wall, effectively blocking Winterbell's path.  
"I thought you'd snapped out of it," Winterbell said coldly.  
"Winterbell," Marayan looked down at her intently, he was close enough for Winterbell to see his pulse jumping in his neck. "I'm not very good at this sort of thing, but I just want you to know that since you arrived things have been…better. I don't really know what all this means but I think I-"  
"Shut up," Winterbell glared at the floor with enough anger to burn a hole in it. "Just shut up." She ducked under his arm and backed away, "You have no idea what you're talking about. You'll just make a fool of yourself."

Wintebell turned and pushed her way to the front of the queue for the Guild Guide.

Winterbell forced herself to calm down by sheer effort of will and she strode under the Skar with the composure befitting her station. The councillors were not particularly warm, but the musk-induced amiability was enough to win Winterbell her votes.

Winterbell took a room in the Rat in the Pot, for by the end of the day she felt that she could never visit Balmora again. She ordered a bath and scrubbed until it hurt.

To Winterbell's infinite relief, the next day she was getting the usual suspicious glares from the Redoran guards, and was being generally ignored by everyone else. The musk had finally worn off. She took the Guild Guide to Wolverine Hall, and stopped to tell Skink of the outcome of her spy hunt. He had, of course, heard of Ranis's disgrace but was interested in hearing the details.

Winterbell skipped lunch and continued on to Tel Vos. Aryon was extremely pleased by Winterbell's efforts and promoted her to Wizard.  
"You're practically a councillor now; you'd better start giving some thought to getting a Mouth of your own. Well, not immediately. Once you're councillor I want you to push straight on to Gotheren. Oh, and see about getting yourself a stronghold, you can't rise without one."  
"A mushroom tower of my own?" Winterbell grinned gleefully; the thought hadn't occurred to her.  
"I think I have some mail for you as well…" Aryon started going through his desk while Winterbell ate kwana cuttle on biscuits and daydreamed about her tower.  
"Here it is," Aryon tossed her an envelope, "it's from Baladas."  
Winterbell practically choked on a biscuit and tore open the envelope. In Baladas's neat handwriting was a brief note:

_Winterbell, the last week has been painful for me, but I believe the time has come to clear the air. I understand that what happened was not the result of any malice on your part. I hope that we will remain friends and that you will grace my house with your presence in the near future._

_Zergonipal is well; I believe the warmer weather agrees with him._

_-Baladas Demnivanni, Master and Councillor of the Great House Telvanni_

Aryon glanced over with feigned disinterest, "Is everything all right?"  
Winterbell smiled, "I think so."


	26. Growing Up Younger

Uni starts the day after tomorrow. Where did all the holidays go? I'd hoped to finish this by now, but there's still quite a ways to go yet. Bethesda owns Morrowind, and they should hire Crassius Curio out for parties… -D

* * *

Winterbell saw no reason to delay, and so she traveled to Gnisis by boat and then stilt-strider. The journey was uneventful and pleasant, and Winterbell noticed that the sun was warm and the breeze was mild. It looked like Frostfall was on its last legs. 

The change in weather signaled the busiest time for the egg miners, and now that the queen had been cured they were determined to make up for last year's shortfall. The town rang with the sound of equipment being repaired and the shops were gearing up for the extra business that the seasonal workers brought.

Winterbell wound her way through bustling town to Baladas's dome, Arvs Drelen dark and silent as it was all year. Winterbell nodded determinedly to herself and pushed open the door.

She was nearly bowled over by Zergonipal. Baladas wasn't wrong when he had said the Daedroth liked the warmer weather. The creature was practically bouncing off the walls. Winterbell pushed him away from her ingredients bag, which he still hadn't lost his fascination with, with as much good humour as she could muster.

Zergonipal turned and raced up the sloping ramps ahead of Winterbell, presumably to bounce excitedly in front of his master. Winterbell took a deep breath and followed at a more sedate pace.

Baladas was waiting for her. The mages regarded each other silently for a few moments then Baladas turned and motioned her into a chair. Winterbell tried not to be too obvious as she glanced around the room, looking for the staff. She did hope it was still in one piece.

"I'm sorry for what happened," Winterbell began.  
Baladas nodded and sat in the chair opposite her, "Yes, you probably are. I forgive you, Winterbell. In this sorry story you are perhaps the least to blame."  
Winterbell was silent; it looked like Baladas was nerving himself up to say something.  
"I think… I'd like to explain what happened. You have entered into this, and you deserve to know what 'this' is. And I feel I should tell someone, Dreveni deserves that at least."  
Winterbell nodded to show that she was listening, and Baladas began his tale.

"We were living in Tel Aruhn at the time, all three of us. Gotheren and I had served our stint as Mouths, and were angling for places on the council. Vandus was Archmagister then. Gotheren was constructing his tower at Tel Aruhn and I, as his friendly rival, was there merely because I had nowhere else to be."

"I did a lot of practical research in those days, and I still hadn't decided where to build my tower. I am somewhat older than Gotheren, but he rose faster, and loved rubbing my nose in it. I didn't mind; my career was healthy, my research was going well, and I had Dreveni."

"Drev was a very competent researcher, like you, she preferred field work to sitting and reasoning. She had the most peculiar theory she was trying to prove. She had always been fascinated with Daedroths, and she believed they were evolving towards animals, gradually becoming a creature of this world. She was completely wrong, of course, but we had great times discussing it. It was on one of our field trips that I acquired Zergonipal."  
At the mention of his name the Daedroth bounded up the stairs and peered enquiringly at the mages. Deciding nothing interesting was happening he went back down stairs again, and soon squeaks and thumps testified to the fact he was hunting rats.

"Gotheren liked Drev too, and he didn't try to hide it. She thought it was funny. I didn't. She liked it when I was jealous, maybe I wasn't paying enough attention otherwise. She goaded me, and I allowed myself to be goaded. Then she decided that I was too jealous and we'd argue. It didn't help that Gotheren and I were becoming politically ever more opposed to each other."

"Then Gotheren sent her the staff. It was a gift beyond magnificent. Mephala knows where he got it. You can sell such things for mere gold, but their true value is far beyond such things. I am not a poor man, but I could not hope to match such a gift. I told her to give it back. She refused. We argued, and all the bile and anger that and been building up just came out."

"Eventually she declared that she loved Gotheren and was going to him. And she left. I was…perhaps more furious than I have ever been my whole life. And that's what Gotheren was counting on. We argued in the council house, ostensibly about the rogue Telvanni, but it went much deeper than that. I have no doubt that the rest of the council knew what was going on; we hadn't tried to keep it a secret."

"I gave in to my anger and I lost. It's as simple as that. When debating my strength always lay in cool, relentless reasoning. In a battle of emotions I was hopelessly outclassed. I lost the debate, but was still offered promotion. In that political climate I knew that my opinions would be shared by the minority, and so I left. Drev ran from me, and I ran from everyone."

"Did she go to Gotheren?" Winterbell asked.  
"Maybe for a while, I don't know. But she never loved him; she took the staff and left, to continue her research in peace. I see it now; she never loved him, or me."  
"That's untrue," Winterbell broke in. "She recognized this." Winterbell held up the amulet.  
"I never said she wouldn't _remember_ me."  
"I think," Winterbell ventured, "she was waiting for you. She was certainly waiting for someone. She said something like 'he never remembered, he never came,' when she died."  
Baladas bowed his head, "I see. I could have found her, if I'd tried. But for some reason…after a century or two I convinced myself that she was dead. It seemed easier that way. I came here, and watched Gotheren become Archmagister, watched the Empire arrive, and then you arrived, and I decided to get some kind of revenge."  
"I see."  
"We were all so stupid. So full of pride, and now look at us, Drev is dead, having spent fruitless years in the wilderness, Gotheren had his day in the sun, but that is ending, for he rules a hostile council, and then there's me. Don't get me wrong, I've done good research here, but I feel as if I have missed so many opportunities. Ah well." He stood up and Winterbell followed.

"I believe you should have this." He reached behind his bookshelf and pulled out the staff. "Assuming you want it, of course."  
"I do have a plan for it," Winterbell replied.  
"I have no use for it. It is merely a painful reminder of things I should have left behind a long time ago. Take it with my blessing."  
"What exactly does it do?"  
"Well, Fyr would be the one to give you an in-depth history, but I can tell you that it's called the Staff of Magus and it can heal your wounds and it grants you the power to feed off magical attacks against you, the way you already do naturally. In fact, in your hands it becomes a powerful weapon, nicely enhancing your innate abilities."

Winterbell accepted the artifact and gave some experimental swipes.  
"Thank you." She bowed before Baladas, who nodded regally. Winterbell carefully rested the staff against her bag. She looked back at Baladas, who seemed lost in sad thoughts. Winterbell appreciated being told the story, but now she felt even guiltier about the death of the Daedroth-obsessed necromancer.

"Winterbell." He roused himself from his thoughts and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. "Please don't make my mistakes," he looked into her eyes sorrowfully, "No matter how angry you are, or how much you may have hurt each other, seek them out. Talk, even if it's just to finish things. Because an ending like this is no ending at all." He gave a small, sad smile, "I suppose you don't need to hear this, I just wish that I could tell my younger self."  
"I understand," Winterbell replied softly, "and I'm sorry for what happened."  
"All this is really past history. Or it should have been. We shouldn't live with such old regrets." His fingers tightened on Winterbell's shoulders, "But I do," he added in a rough whisper.

With a self-deprecating shake of his head Baladas released Winterbell and stepped away.  
"Time will heal all wounds. On a hopefully cheerier note, what's been happening since I last saw you?"  
"Well, you know the Mage's Guild Monopoly?" Winterbell began.

Baladas listened to Winterbell's news with interest. He agreed that getting rid of Ranis was a good idea, but was more circumspect about the monopoly vote.  
"Remember, Telvanni might be tolerating your Guild membership, but the reverse isn't going to apply unless you do some really fancy footwork. They're not going to appreciate the loss of their monopoly."  
"They don't need to know that I had anything to do with it. It's not as if _I_ have a vote on the Grand Council."  
"Point taken," Baladas said thoughtfully, "we may yet use this to increase your stocks in the Guild. Trebonius is a terrible leader, and this may be your opportunity to prove you're a better one."  
"Oh, Aryon says I need a mushroom tower."  
"Yes, it is an accessory most Telvanni can't live without. However, since you're trying to stay in the good books of people to the west, I suggest you go and see Dren before you start building."  
"Dren?"  
"The Duke, of course. He's the one who will grant you permission. Normally we don't bother, but in this case it might be a politically wise move."  
"And I get to meet the elder brother," Winterbell said with a crafty smile. "That will be interesting."  
"The elder brother?"  
"You know the Duke's youngest brother is a member of the Guild. I gather it's not the happiest of families."  
"Ah, yes. The Drens have a knack for creating controversy. I remember their grandfather, Arethan Dren. That family pulled itself up to aristocracy on the back of the Empire. You'd think they'd been here for centuries."  
"What do you mean?"  
"The Drens have only been on Vvardenfell for four generations. The affect to be an old family and they do it well, but there are no tombs on Vvardenfell with 'Dren' inscribed on them"  
"That's really very interesting."  
"Don't get involved in their politics. There's nothing for you to gain."  
"I don't intend to." Winterbell said shortly, although these things happen, she thought to herself.

"By the way, do you have that ring yet?" Baladas asked casually. Winterbell's eyes went wide, and he chuckled. "Am I to take it you've forgotten?"  
"Completely," Winterbell confessed.  
"Don't worry about it, it's not urgent. But do try and get it before you start tearing down empires."  
"I'll add it to my list."

Winterbell couldn't think of anything more to ask, so she stood to take her leave.  
"Thank you for visiting me today."  
"Thank you for not tearing my head off," Winterbell replied.  
"At first the thought did cross my mind," Baladas confessed, "but really, I've made enough mistakes already. You know what I think?"  
"What?"  
"This year the turning of the seasons may finally mean something again. It's time to put the past where it belongs. I do hope and believe you will defeat Gotheren, Winterbell, but I do not think I will watch and gloat. After all this time, it seems petty somehow."  
"I see."  
"When I met you, I supported you out of a sense of mischief. At the time I did not consider you could rise so high. Revenge is small-minded. I had a reputation for causing trouble for the hell of it." He smiled, "I think I need to get that back."  
He chucked, "I think I might visit some people. That ought to catch everyone off balance."

Winterbell nodded and collected her things, her mind full of strange and melancholic thoughts. She found it difficult to empathise with Baladas; she had had no love affairs, painful or otherwise, to sway her reasoning. She thought herself beyond such things, but as she trod the familiar passage to the front door a vision of her mother's face swam before her eyes.

Her mother had been beautiful, in an ethereal way; nothing like her hard-faced daughter. She had tried to hold the little family together, but Winterbell had inherited her father's iron will. She had convinced herself that it was for her mother's sake that she left, that it wasn't fair to make the woman try and reconcile her broken family. There was some truth in that, but, like Baladas, Winterbell was also fleeing from guilt.  
"She probably thought I died," Winterbell murmured to herself. "There's no way either of them would still be alive now." Winterbell shook her head, and pulled her thoughts back to the present. If Baladas could move on from the past, so could she, she decided.

Winterbell decided to head north to Ald Velothi. She strode out of Gnisis thoughtfully, trying to work out why, if Baladas was becoming older and wiser, he was acting so much younger. It wasn't until the Ald Velothi watchtower rose above the horizon that Winterbell realised; over the past year she had been doing exactly the same thing.


	27. A Small Wager

Winterbell went straight from Ald Velothi to Dagon Fel. Before Ranis had been removed she had informed Winterbell that she would need a wizard's staff to gain promotion in the Guild, and that one might be found in the home of an ex-guild member and necromancer on the northern island.

Winterbell hoped this necromancer didn't turn out to be someone else's old flame; one mistake like that a lifetime is enough.

It was a long, hard fight. The necromancer's cave was designed with defense in mind and her skeletal archers were deadly accurate. By the time Winterbell prized the bloody staff from the necromancer's hand it was well past sunset.

Winterbell spent an uncomfortable night on the waves, making her way down the western coast of Vvardenfell to Ebonheart. She remembered stumbling sleepily from one ship to the next at some ungodly hour. Yawning and cracking her joints Winterbell arrived at Ebonheart just as the sun was rising.

Her breath caught. The orangey morning light spilled across rough hewn stone and slate rooves, and the air was redolent with the smells of smoke, cooking and the faint tang of garbage.

"Home," she murmured. Memories of a thousand mornings like this one washed over her, of returning to her tiny room above a butcher's shop after a night spent brewing potions illegally at the Guild Academy.

Wintebell shook her head. No, this wasn't home, and home wasn't worth remembering. Here the buildings did not stretch for miles; the world was not a slate-grey. Here there was the sound of the ocean, and the salt-laden breeze would carry away the odor of people living and dying.

Winterbell wandered over to the inn to get a couple hours sleep before she faced the Duke.

"My name is Winterbell, and I am a Spellwright of the Great House Telvanni, and I request an audience with his Lordship. This is the fifth time I've explained this; don't you people ever talk to each other?" Winterbell snapped at yet another underling.

Representatives of all three Houses were milling about downstairs, and the Telvanni contingent had informed Winterbell that there really wasn't much for them to do except get ready for the meeting of the Grand Council which was to be held in the castle's huge dining room in a mere two weeks time.

"Will the Councillors themselves attend, or will they send their Mouths?" With the Mages Guild Monopoly on the agenda Winterbell was less than keen on attending the meeting.  
"They generally send their Mouths, but I hear Master Aryon himself is attending this year, although I suppose you could come too if you'd like. Things are really shaking up back east aren't they?"  
Winterbell nodded her agreement and took her leave, silently blessing Aryon and his foresight.

Now, nearly an hour later, she was finally being admitted to see the Duke. As expected he was flanked by a tough-looking contingent of knights. Not that their shiny armour would do them much good against her, Winterbell thought to herself.

The Duke was a distinguished-looking Dunmer, his beard and hair beginning to grey. He had the same courteous and reserved air as Aryon, and Winterbell watched her words carefully. He regarded her with caution, not hostility, although the guards beside him were very thin-lipped at the sight of the Telvanni.

"I am here to request a construction contract for my proposed tower at the site of Ulrith's Grave."  
"A Telvanni asking permission, how refreshing." Winterbell didn't know who the other man was, and so she simply ignored him and waited for the Duke's reply.  
"I see," Vedam replied thoughtfully, "and are you, Winterbell, prepared to use this stronghold in the defense of my people? You must forgive me, but Telvanni has a history of building these towers to protect themselves and no one else."  
"I swear that, should the people of Morrowind need aid, I shall give it."  
The Duke looked surprised, but unconvinced. With a shrug and a regal nod he motioned one of his underlings to supply Winterbell with the contract.

The mage blinked in surprise as the parchment was placed in her hands and then remembered her manners and bowed low before the Duke. She was about to leave when he held up his hand.  
"And how is Marayan doing, anyway?"  
He knew! Of course he knows, Winterbell chided herself, he's about as highly ranked as a Hlaalu can get.  
"He is well," Winterbell replied, wondering just what was expected of her, "I'm afraid I can't tell you more than that. We don't see each other often."  
"Of course, you must be very busy; the Grand Council Meeting is once again upon us."  
"Uhh, yes, your Lordship."

Winterbelll was most relieved to get away from the castle, and boarded the next boat to Vivec. So Vedam knew, but he hadn't told Marayan. She shook her head; Dren family politics were unfathomable.

"Baladas is right; I should leave the whole bunch of them alone." She couldn't, of course. With her interfering in Ilmeni's problems she was involved, one way or another. The best she could do was hope that she wasn't _too_ involved.

Vivec was next on her list, just a quick stop to make her promotion official. Gadar looked even more haggard than he did last time, and Winterbell wondered what Aryon had said to Dratha about him. Trebonius was as flakey as usual, although he did seem rather pleased about something. Winterbell questioned one of the other mages, and discovered that he had cursed an Ordinator who had called him a flathead. Winterbell was highly amused, both at the aptness of the insult and at the fact that one of the snobby Ordinators was getting his comeuppance.  
"I wonder if we can goad them _all_ into insulting him?" she wondered.

Winterbell recalled back to Balmora in good spirits. She was sorting through her latest batch of ingredients when she remembered what state she had been in when she last left the town. She could feel her face heat up with embarrassment again.  
She sighed, "I should talk to him, shouldn't I? It's not his stupid fault." She didn't really want to hold this conversation in the middle of the Guildhall, so she spent the afternoon catching up on more missed sleep.

Winterbell went to the Eight Plates as evening fell and perched at the bar to wait for Marayan. The Eight Plates was a Hlaalu hangout and Winterbell was less than comfortable under the cold stares of the other patrons. And yet Marayan was apparently oblivious as to her House connections. He really must not like other Hlaalu, Winterbell thought to herself.

Winterbell waited patiently, hoping the mage hadn't decided to stay back and work at the Guildhall. Winterbell was just about to order some dinner when the door opened and Marayan strolled in, a few scrolls under his arm. He nodded politely to the barmaid and then stopped in surprise when he saw who was waiting for him.

"Well this is unusual," he said, taking a seat beside Winterbell.  
"I owe you an apology, and an explanation."  
"I see. Here or upstairs?" He tilted his head towards the stairway.  
"Neither really, this isn't my kind of place."  
"All right, let me put these scrolls away."

Winterbell waited by the doorway and eventually the other mage joined her. They took a meandering path out of the town and past the temple.  
"The last time we met," Winterbell began, "I was on my way to Ald Ruhn to do some rather unpleasant business with the Redorans."  
"Business?" Marayan asked.  
"It's all sorted out now; it was to do with the Guild and trade concessions. I don't know why _I_ had to do it. Anyway, that's irrelevant now."  
Marayan nodded, "Go on."  
"Well, I'm not much of a negotiator, and I guess I'd heard Ajira's sales pitch once too often. Anyway, it's not something I'm proud of, but I used that Telvanni stuff." Winterbell started talking faster, "So it's really not your fault what happened, but you see why I was so annoyed, and why the whole thing was rather foolish and it won't happen again I assure you."  
Marayan held up his hand to stop the flow of words, "All right Winterbell, I believe you. It's fine. It wasn't the proudest moment for either of us."  
"Well, I'm glad that's cleared up."  
"Well…yes, I suppose so." Marayan did not look convinced. "Congratulations, by the way, on your promotion."  
"News travels fast. And thank you."  
"If you'd gotten promoted just a bit earlier it could be you running the Guildhall now."  
"No, I'm not exactly the type to stay in one spot and organise people and talk to customers. How is Estirdalen getting on anyway?"  
"Well, I think she was a bit overwhelmed at first, but now that Ranis is gone Ajira and Galbedir are on much better terms; that makes life much more pleasant."  
"That's good."

"Winterbell, I've been hearing rumours about you."  
"What rumours?" Winterbell was instantly on her guard.  
"That you might be going to challenge Trebonius."  
"Ah," Winterbell was relieved, "I'm not going to deny it. But it's not really any desire for power on my part, but that flathead just makes me so_ angry_. He's making the Guild look bad, and who knows what else?"  
"Well, I can't say I'd be sorry to see him go, but Winterbell do you think you're really up to the task?"  
"Of challenging Trebonius? Of course," Winterbell said confidently.  
"I meant of running the Guild. You're good at getting things done, and you're a powerful mage, but I can't see you staying in one spot long enough to be an effective leader." Marayan paused, "Not that I mean any disrespect."  
"No, you're right. And I thank you for your honesty. I have a lot of things to think about before I try anything."  
"Well, just so you know," Marayan looked at her seriously, "you have my support if you do want to challenge the leadership."  
"Thank you." She smiled.

Marayan nodded and looked up at the star splattered sky, "The seasons turn once again."  
"It will be festival time soon."  
"What? You know about the festival? After your recalcitrance on the Night of All Souls I thought you'd sworn off all festivities."  
"The Night of All Souls has little to interest me. But the First Seed festivals, they hold the contests." Winterbell grinned predatorily.  
"Ah, so _that's_ what interests you. Do you gamble or just watch the latest crop of young men show off?"  
"Oh, a bit of both really." Winterbell said breezily, "In Cyrodil there was no way I'd get to compete, but here…I don't see why not."  
"You want to compete?"  
"In the archery contest. I've gotten quite good over the past year." She waved her hand, "All the cliff racers you know."  
Marayan laughed, "I see. Maybe I should compete as well; you know I've been practicing."  
"Are you sure that's a good idea? It's not as if the archery contest is dangerous, but if you want to fight…you'll be going up against the Fighter's Guild apprentices."  
"And?"  
"They're going to be at least twenty years younger than you."  
"That's twenty years less experienced."  
Winterbell raised an eyebrow, "Experienced?"  
"Well, I want to test my skills without picking another fight with the Camonna Tong."  
"You have a point there. At least they're not aiming to actually _kill_ you in the contests. Still, you might ask Ajira to brew you up a few healing potions."  
"What does that mean?"  
"I mean you'll probably need 'em."  
"Nice to see you have confidence in me. If you're so sure I'm going to fall on my face, how about a little wager then?" His eyes glittered.  
"Wager huh? What do you have in mind?"  
"Well, the person who ranks highest in their chosen contest gets…uhh…"  
Winterbell laughed, "How about a thousand gold?"  
"No, this has to be more than mere money, Winterbell. Something more valuable…"  
"You don't have anything I'd consider valuable, I'm afraid." Winterbell smirked.  
"All right then, if I lose you get two thousand gold. And if _you_ lose-"  
"Yes?"  
"I get another dance with you, at the party at the end of the festival."  
"That's it?" Winterbell asked disbelievingly. "You sir, have a bet." She smiled.  
"Shake on it?" He held out his hand.  
She nodded and took his hand briefly, "You're a weird one Dren; do you know that?"  
"I had a fair idea."


	28. Let the Games Begin

This update has been a little while in coming, and I apologise. Uni started again and I also obsessively played through both Knights of the Old Republic games. Also, a warm welcome to any and all new readers, it's nice to have you along. Morrowind belongs to Bethesda, enjoy. -D

* * *

The next two days were busy for everyone except Winterbell. Shops and houses were decorated with flags and pennants, and the inns filled with visitors, mostly farmers. Temporary guar pens were set up outside the town as the best of the herd were gathered for judging. Everywhere people smiled and broke into spontaneous song, the warmer weather lifted the spirits of one and all.

If it could be done, then there was a contest for it. Housewives proudly baked their favourite family recipes, youths practiced sparring with wooden staves day and night, and old women gathered in cackling groups to show off their needlework and look at the young men. Young women counted their coins and purchased bright new dresses.

Winterbell holed up in her house, away from the noise and barnyard smell and made potions. Her indifference was all an act though, for every time she paused to look out the window she couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation.

The day finally dawned, bright and clear. Winterbell had vowed that she would not be getting out of bed any earlier than normal, but after finding herself wide awake at dawn she gave in and joined the other early-risers in wandering around the town. Even at this hour the contest registration, set up in the Hlaalu council house, was packed. The council house was full of half-familiar faces, and a disconcerting number of people seemed to at least recognise her, even if they didn't know her.

Winterbell stomped on feet and snarled and pushed her way to the Bosmer in charge of the archery, javelin, and flower arranging competitions.  
"Flower arr-?"  
"Archery," Winterbell cut him off. "Longbow amateur division."  
"Uhh…of course. Name, and…I'll tell you when you're scheduled."

It was with great relief that Winterbell finally escaped the council house, with her number and time scrawled on a piece of parchment. She saw Marayan still mid-queue but couldn't get close enough to talk.

The Mage's Guild didn't hold any competitions, as amateur magical events were considered too dangerous for all involved. Instead they held displays and advertised for new apprentices. Ajira had no skill with spells, and so she joined Winterbell as she wandered around.  
"I can't believe how many of our people are going in competitions," Estirdalin enthused. "It's never happened before, you're in archery, Masaline and her boyfriend are going in the dance competition, and Marayan said he was going to compete in something as well."  
"He's going in the ring," Winterbell said.  
"What? Combat? Is he crazy?"  
"Very possibly."

There was a cold laugh and a tall Nordic woman sauntered over. Estirdalin pressed her lips into a disapproving line.  
"Hello Eydis. Enjoying the displays?"  
"They are…the same as every year. I hear you Mages are having some internal problems."  
"Nothing the Fighter's Guild need concern itself with."  
Winterbell watched the exchange; rather puzzled as she had no idea the Guilds had any animosity towards each other. Ajira looked a bit surprised as well.  
"Well, it is nice to see you're getting out a bit more. It can't be healthy, spending all that time reading books."  
"I think you'll find we're healthy enough."  
Eydis's steel gaze flicked over Winterbell, "Well you don't look it, to be blunt."  
Winterbell gave a chuckle that showed a lot of teeth, "We'll just have to see, won't we?"  
"Seriously though, you might want to reconsider some of your entries. There's no magic allowed in the ring."  
"I didn't know you followed the amateur fights." Estirdalin raised an eyebrow.  
"Well, between you and me, there's going to be something special this year. Our recruits have been top-notch. It's a shame that Redguard couldn't participate though," the fighter mused, "he was last seen heading into the Ashlands…I hope the blight monsters didn't get him. Ah well…I have rather a lot to organise. I'll see you ringside." And with that she turned and walked away, her plaits swinging behind her.

"Did that sound vaguely threatening to anyone else?" Winterbell asked no one in particular.  
"Estir, what's going on?" Ajira asked.  
The Altmer sighed, "It's…it's personal. Eydis got on quite well with Ranis, which should tell you what kind of person she is. And she doesn't get on with me at all…we've clashed before. Although I think she did go a bit far," she frowned, "there's no need to insult Winterbell or drag Marayan's fight into this."  
"We should tell him," Ajira said.  
"Tell him what?" Winterbell affected unconcern, "He's going into the ring with open eyes. We'll all be there; they won't be allowed to cheat."  
"Then I shall keep my sight sharp," Ajira vowed.  
"Speaking of sharp sight, I have an archery competition soon. I'm going to collect my things, get in early if you want good seats."

Winterbell lined up with the other archers, but as she pulled on her supple leather gloves her thoughts were elsewhere. Eydis had been rude and threatening, but underneath her words Winterbell sensed a current of fear. She stood in the bright sunshine and watched the activity warily.  
"We're going to miss the ring being blooded," one of her competitors said to his companion sorrowfully. Winterbell nodded thoughtfully, she remembered in Cyrodil, watching the adjudicator kill an animal, usually a rat, and drip the blood onto the sands of the ring. Symbolic blood for a symbolic war.  
"I certainly hope so," she replied softly, almost to herself.

Winterbell noticed little bar the flight of her own arrows during the competition. At first she was considered a joke entry, but as the scores mounted and the number of competitors dropped people started to take notice of the old woman with the bonemould bow. Winterbell was faintly aware of the mages cheering her on, and once she caught a glimpse of Marayan's smile.

THUD.  
"She's out!" The Dunmer who was both judging and commentating nodded to Winterbell, who felt quite relieved to be able to sit down and un-kink her fingers. She joined the other eliminated competitors on the grass nearby to the applause of the crowd and gratefully accepted a drink.

"Third place! Well done!" Winterbell couldn't hold back a grin as the other mages gathered around and slapped her on the back.  
"It was only the amateur division," Winterbell protested, nodding towards the current crop of archers, most of whom were Imperial troops.  
"Still, not to be sneezed at," Estirdalin proclaimed.  
Winterbell caught Marayan's eye, "You up to beat that?"  
The mage grinned, "I think so."  
"You be careful," Ajira admonished, "I don't want to have to patch you up."  
"That's what _she_ said." He nodded at Winterbell with a mock-scowl. "It's so nice to know you all have confidence in me."  
"Ugh," Winterbell realised that she'd forgotten breakfast in the excitement, "I'm going to find something to eat. I'll see you ringside."

Winterbell put away her bow and wandered among the stalls looking for something that wasn't deep fried or pure sugar. She found an Argonian selling little cakes filled with scrib jelly and bought three of them. She lunched leaning against the wall of the Fighter's Guild and trying not to get in anyone's way.

A Breton woman in netch leather came out of the Guildhall leading a small group of young men and women who all looked rather nervous. Winterbell watched them go past and seriously considered that she could lose her bet with Marayan.

Still, she couldn't shake the prickling feeling that something was wrong somewhere. Somewhere today she had seen someone almost familiar who shouldn't have been there.

"Psst! Spellwright." Winterbell jumped and glared towards the shaded alley behind the Guildhall from which the entreaty had issued. Glancing around to make sure no one else had heard anything she stalked into the shadows.

To her surprise she didn't recognise the scrappy Dunmer who bobbed his head before her. He was dressed like a peasant, and looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in six months. His gaze was furtive and calculating.  
"Who or what are you?" Winterbell asked her lip curling towards a sneer.  
"I'm Fast Eddie, not-quite-ex-Telvanni, right? There aren't too many of us out west, are there eh? We should stick together."  
"I do not 'stick together' with anyone. So unless you have something useful to impart I'll be on my way."  
"All right, all right," he said hurriedly. "It figures you important people would be busy. Look, I found this guy in the river-"  
"And what were you doing in the river?"  
"Dunnin't matter now. The point is he was in the Southwall Cornerclub last night, shooting his mouth off about how he'd been sponsored. He came here for the competitions."  
"Which competitions?" Winterbell asked suspiciously.  
"Combat." Eddie nodded significantly. "I uhh…overheard Eydis and the mages earlier. You might want to look out for your mate there."  
"Is this man still alive?" Winterbell asked urgently.  
"He's an Orc. And even Orcs can't take too many blows to the head with an axe."  
"All right. What do you want then? Gold?"  
"What do you mean, Spellwright?" Eddie blinked ingratiatingly.  
"I haven't time for diplomacy. You helped me for a reason, so spit it out."  
"I just want you to let me come back to the House. When you've gotten rid of Gotheren- he's the withered old bastard who chucked me out."  
"You want to go back?"  
"Life isn't easy for me here. I can't get work, and I hate lying to my Mother in all the letters I write-"  
"All right, you can come back. _If_ you continue to make yourself useful."  
"How do I know you'll keep your word?"  
"You don't." Winterbell strode away, her face grim.

The fighting had started by the time Winterbell arrived, but she didn't recognise either of the young competitors. Marayan had apparently been scheduled for later. Winterbell wove through the crowd until she found the judge with the list of challengers.  
"I saw you in the archery," he said. "Do you want to sign up for combat as well?"  
"No, I just need some information. Have any of the challengers not shown up yet? Any Orcs?"  
"We've had a few drop-outs, but no one's gone missing." He consulted his list, "There are only three Orcs competing. They've all shown up."  
Winterbell frowned, "Hmm…well…are any of them sponsored?"  
"Yes, we've got one sponsored by the Fighter's Guild."  
"What does sponsorship mean exactly?" Winterbell asked.  
"It means you don't have to fight all these farm boys. Only the Guild or the Legion can sponsor people, it means you go immediately into qualified rounds. It saves time."  
"Have you seen this sponsored Orc?"  
"Yeah, big guy with an axe. If you ask me he should be in the professional competition, but I assume the Guild knows what it's doing."  
Winterbell let out a breath, "I think the Guild has a good idea."

Winterbell pinched her nose and tried to blot out the clamour of the festival and think. Of course, she realized, it could be this entire business was between two Orcs who wanted sponsorship, and have nothing to do with Marayan, but Winterbell wasn't convinced by her own reasoning. But she had no proof; and she doubted Eddie would back her up in public, even if she'd been willing to have anything to do with a known Telvanni.

Winterbell spotted a familiar figure heading toward the Fighter's Guild. She bared her teeth in a humourless smile, "Eydis." If anyone knew what was going on it was she.

Winterbell wished she had time to collect a weapon from her house, but couldn't risk losing the Nord. A few minutes after the warrior entered the Fighter's Guild, Winterbell followed.

The Guild was deserted and reeked faintly of oil and sweat. Winterbell closed the door gently behind her, her senses straining for any noise. Winterbell crept forward, and peered around the corner at the base of the stairs.   
"I'm surprised you had the courage to follow me." The words dripped with bitter venom. "And now, my love, we finish this."  
Winterbell turned to look up the stairs, "What the-? Ungh!"  
A small throwing knife lodged itself in Winterbell's shoulder, and such was the force of the surprise attack the mage staggered and nearly fell against some barrels, blinking back tears of pain.

Outside, under one of the shade tents, Marayan waited patiently for his turn to fight, his shortsword held loosely and confidently in his hand. For the tenth time he scanned the crowd and wondered what on Nim was keeping Winterbell.


	29. You Can't Hide in the Ring

Fic trivia: Way back at around chapter fifteen I mapped out a rough plan of the rest of this story. I intended to have it all wrapped up by chapter twenty-six. Har har. Right now I'm hoping it will be done by chapter forty. Morrowind is owned by Bethesda Softworks. –D

* * *

"What the hell are you talking about?" Winterbell managed to grit out between clenched teeth as she pulled the blade from her shoulder. Eydis, for it was she who lurked at the top of the stairs, gasped audibly in surprise.  
"What are _you_ doing here?" the fighter snarled.  
Winterbell gave a pained chuckle, "So I'm not 'your love'. That is good to hear." She didn't want to waste magicka by healing her wound so Winterbell merely tossed the blade aside and looked up at Eydis. "I'm here to find out what you rigged with Dren's fight."

The Nord didn't seem to react to Winterbell's words. In fact, she didn't seem interested in the mage at all. She shook her head and bounded down the stairs.  
"I haven't time or inclination to talk with you." She brushed Winterbell aside.  
"I'm not giving you a choice," Winterbell ground out. She grabbed Eydis's arm and attempted to lever it behind her back.

As Winterbell had anticipated she was no match for the superior strength and speed of the Nord. The warrior turned like lightning and smashed Winterbell against the wall, holding her hand above her head.  
"Leave me alone, you old hag." Her face was twisted in hate. Winterbell started muttering something under her breath. Eydis jammed her forearm against the mage's throat.  
"No spells."  
"Are…you sure about that?" Winterbell managed to choke out, her eyes flicking upwards. Eydis looked up and blanched. Floating in the air above them was the contents of a nearby weapon's rack. Eydis relaxed her grip slightly.  
"I drop, they drop," Winterbell grinned. Eydis snarled.

Winterbell was bluffing, of course. The floating objects would stay there for a minute and then drop, whether Winterbell was conscious or not. Still, she was fairly confident that Eydis wouldn't know this.

The warrior still seemed distracted.  
"I don't need this," she muttered.  
"Tell me what you've done to the combat event," Winterbell insisted.  
"Will you shut up?" Winterbell grimaced in frustration. It was hard to be threatening when you couldn't even hold the other person's attention.

"Leave her alone!" A familiar voice floated down the stairs.  
"Finally!" Eydis dropped Winterbell like a hot coal. The mage looked up the stairs and massaged her throat.  
"Estir?"  
"Hello Winterbell, I'm sorry you got involved in this," the Altmer apologized.  
"You! Betrayer!"  
"I never betrayed you, Eydis! I told you why it could never work; you just couldn't let it go."  
Winterbell frowned, uncomfortably aware this was a scene she wasn't supposed to see.  
"You said we were perfect!" Eydis hissed.  
"Look at what Ranis turned you into. You're so full of hate."

Winterbell took a deep breath, "Excuse me!" She quailed under the glares of the combatants, "We need to find out what she's done to Dren."  
"Eydis?" Eistirdalen asked.  
"He'll be fine. It's just to scare him." Even she didn't sound convinced, and fear flickered in her eyes.  
"What have you done?" Winterbell asked again.  
"We were just told to sneak this Orc into the competition. It's just to scare him!"

Winterbell started up the stairs, "I have to go. Will you be all right?" she asked the other mage.  
Estirdalen nodded, "You do what you have to. This is my business." The weapons dropped around Eydis, who didn't even flinch.

With a vicious slash Marayan disarmed his opponent. The young Kaijit hissed as the Dunmer's steel opened up her knuckles.  
"Yield?" Marayan asked. The Kaijit nodded and walked from the ring, clutching her paw. Marayan nodded to the crowd but frowned uneasily. This was his second qualified match and Winterbell hadn't shown up yet. He was disappointed and puzzled; he assumed she'd be there, even if only to watch him bite the dust.

Face streaked with grime and sweat, he collapsed into a chair to await his next round. He hadn't taken any serious injuries, but he had more than one bruise that was going to hurt like hell the next day, and his armour was beginning to look a bit ragged.

He glanced over at the row of seats where his friends sat and noticed Estirdalin was missing as well. He nodded and waved at Galbedir and again scanned the rest of the crowd.

"Next round!" the judge called. "Third qualified round, Marayan Dren verses Baramb gra-Molgo. The winner of this round will be placed, so put your hands together for our challengers."  
Marayan shook his head and cleared his mind for the next match. He strode into the ring and then glanced quickly at the judge, convinced there was some kind of mistake. His opponent did not look like an amateur.

The Orc was easily a head and shoulders taller than Marayan, and the scars on his arms suggested that he belonged in the professional events. His face was covered by an iron helm, but Marayan felt his opponent was vaguely familiar. The Orc carried a massive Orcish axe and he hefted it easily in one hand.

The bell rang and Marayan slid into a fighting stance, waiting for his opponent to make the first move. The Orc waited a beat to see if his opponent was going to attack first and then charged. The ring was only ten feet wide, and Marayan only just managed to duck out of the way. He flicked his sword back at his opponent as he passed, but it grated harmlessly off the Orc's armour.

They ducked and weaved about the ring some more, the Orc always on the aggressive, but never quite managing to land a blow. Marayan was yet again scrambling out of the way when the Orc growled,  
"Recognise me yet, traitor?"  
"Boss!" Marayan nearly choked. What was the Cammona Tong ex-boss doing here?  
"Good, now you'll know why you won't be walking away from this fight."  
"But I'm a Dren. Orvas won't be happy of you put me out of commission." Marayan parried, catching the axe with the hilt of his sword. To his dismay, the hilt started to crack.  
"After you helped those prisoners escape I'll never be able to show my face to the Tong again anyway. I'm gonna enjoy watching you pay."  
"At least I know I don't have to fight fair then." Marayan disengaged their weapons and kicked the Orc in the side.

The crowd howled at the obvious foul but Marayan ignored them, his eyes on the Orc. The kick had landed well, but the Orc seemed to shrug it off, and Marayan wondered if he'd done more damage to his foot than to his opponent.  
"No foul!" the Orc roared and a wave of excited chatter swept over the crowd.  
"Dren!" Marayan turned to see Winterbell pushing her way through the crowd, her face pale and grim. Her shoulder appeared to be soaked in blood. She took one look at the Orc shook her head urgently, obviously wanting Marayan to try and end the fight.

The tension left Marayan's frame as he looked from Winterbell to the Orc. Whatever fear he held melted away in the face of a wall of rage. He shook his head at Winterbell. With one movement he flew across the ring to bring his sword down on the Orc's relatively unprotected shoulder.

Instead of blocking, as Marayan had expected him to do, the Orc took the attack and brought his axe up into Marayan's side. Most of impact was expended in throwing Marayan across the ring, but as the mage got to his feet he could feel warm blood pooling on the inside of his cuirass.

To his relief his effort hadn't been wasted. The Orc was having some difficulty lifting his damaged arm. A telling blow, for the axe was most effective when wielded with both hands. Marayan glanced over at Winterbell and felt mildly irritated. Rather than worried she looked cranky, and seemed to be trying to get him to do something by sheer force of will. Marayan didn't have time to try and decipher it; the Orc was moving again, more cautiously now.

Marayan brought up his sword again and the combatants started circling each other, their blood mixing with the sand. Marayan feinted and slashed the Orc across the chest. The Orc swung his axe viciously, welding the axe with one hand as if it had been designed for it. Marayan ducked and weaved, but he was getting tired; he had been moving around a lot more than his opponent.

The crowd gasped as Marayan slipped. He brought up his sword to block again. He twisted, deflecting most of the force of the attack away from him. As the Orc brought his axe down the sword was torn form Marayan's grasp. The Dunmer rolled out of the way, and made a lunge for his sword. Only to have it fly away from his grasp.

"_Telekinsis!_" Marayan watched in amazed horror as his blade flew to Winterbell's outstretched hand. Unarmed he dodged out of the way of another attack, trying to get closer to Winterbell, who had her eyes shut as she held the sword.  
"Dren, catch!" Winterbell tossed the sword back. Marayan caught it one-handed and sliced at the Orc, who had left his flank unprotected. Dren was still moving out of the way, so his attack only grated against the Orc's armour, but the Orc gave a snarl of pain nonetheless.

Marayan skidded to a halt and looked at his sword. The edge glistened with ice.  
"I shouldn't have doubted," he muttered to himself, and, gathering the last of his strength, pressed home his new advantage. Now he no longer needed to get past the Orc's armour he resorted to quick, light attacks that left the Orc numb and frozen. Marayan attacked once more, and the battered blade finally broke, sending shards of ice skittering into the audience. With a groan like a dying stilt-strider, the Orc fell.

Marayan was vaguely aware of Winterbell proclaiming loudly that the Orc was Cammona Tong, but he no longer cared if he was banned from the competition or even arrested. All he could think about was the warm, welcoming darkness that swirled around the corners of his vision.

"You two make a pretty good team," Estirdalin said, looking down at Marayan, who rested in one of the Guildhall beds, his torso swathed in bandages.  
"He's just lucky he dropped his weapon." Winterbell replied, sipping at some tea. "And how about you? All sorted?"  
The Altemer sighed, "Not really. You know how these messy break-ups are."  
"Hmm…" Winterbell said noncommittally.  
"Anyway, I'll spare you the experience of explaining all this to the guards. I'm sure they'll want some account of what went on today." Estirdalen turned and left, and Winterbell nodded her thanks.

"Quite a team, huh?" Marayan's eyes opened, and he smiled weakly. "Is your shoulder all right?""Yes, yes, it's fine," Winterbell waved her hand airily, "Kidnapping, attempted murder, is there anything your brother won't do?"  
"You said Eydis thought he wasn't supposed to kill me. I think they just underestimated the boss's desire for revenge."  
"Maybe," Winterbell said, plainly unconvinced.  
"You could have given me some idea of what you were going to do."  
"I'm sorry, next time I'll write you a letter," she replied sarcastically.  
"All right, I take your point. I think my heart stopped when you stole my sword though."  
Winterbell chuckled. "Anyway, I suppose I won't ask for my gold."  
"What? If I was still mobile we would be dancing right now."  
"Are you kidding? You didn't even place. _I_ came third."  
"I defeated a Tong captain!"  
"Yes, yes, you're a wonderful warrior. You still lose the bet."  
"Don't patronise me just because I can't do anything about it."  
"Oh please, I'm not patronising you just because you can't do anything. I'm patronising you because it's fun."  
Marayan sighed and changed the subject, "No matter what role he actually had to play, I'm going to have to see my brother. And there's the Grand Council Meeting in a week. _That_ should be fun."  
"You'd be better off ditching them, you know."  
"Winterbell, I know you don't want to talk about it, but you must have, at least at one point, had a family. You know it's not that easy."  
"You're wrong, Dren. It _is_ that easy. It might be a…a 'messy break-up' but believe me, it can be done."  
Marayan shook his head, "I've known you for a year, Winterbell, and yet sometimes I feel I don't know you at all."  
"Oh, I think you know me quite well, you just don't know much _about_ me. You're friends with the person, not with their past."  
A strange look stole across Marayan's face, "We…we're friends?"  
"Well of course we are." Winterbell stood and put her teacup away, "If we weren't I certainly wouldn't be here now."  
"Heh…that's," he yawned, "that's really nice to know."  
Winterbell nodded to herself and then crept out, leaving him to sleep and heal in peace.


	30. Impromptu Holiday

Sorry for the delay. If you get bored waiting for updates try reading some of my other fics (they could use the reviews :P). Morrowind belongs to Bethesda.

* * *

The next day brought a blessed lack of guar and noise. There was a huge area outside Balmora where the grass had be trampled and muddied, but other than that it was as if the celebrations and tribulations of the day before had never been.

Winterbell woke up full of purpose, her weapons were fixed, her potions bag full, and her ingredients bag empty. However, when she consulted the battered journal she wrote her 'to-do' lists in the only thing uncrossed was 'Dwemer ring for Baladas'.

Winterbell looked up at the fluffy clouds drifting across an antronach blue sky and reflected that it was a bit of a waste of nice weather to go tracking through the ash wilderness. She opened all her windows and sat at her workbench, just thinking.

It had come as a bit of a shock when Marayan had mentioned that they'd known each other for a year. The time had flown. Winterbell thought back to those first few difficult and yet exhilarating days she'd spent in Vvardenfell.  
"I never did go back to Pelagiad," she said to herself. She looked around her room, as if seeing all the knick-knacks she'd collected for the first time. It dawned on her that she was actually quite wealthy.  
"Baladas can wait a bit longer," she declared, "I'm going on holiday!"

And so, Winterbell unpacked her weapons, packed some clothes and quite a bit of money, and carefully locked her house. It felt odd to be wearing a skirt instead of a robe and shoes instead of tough walking boots, but it was with high spirits that Winterbell carried her bag to the stilt-strider dock.

Deciding to play the lady of leisure instead of the toughened adventurer Winterbell took the strider to Seyda Neen and then waited for an appropriately large group of merchants and their hirelings to escort her to Pelagiad.

It was the fastest non-magical way to travel, and as she had done that day almost a year ago, Winterbell arrived in Pelagiad in time for lunch. After taking a room at the Halfway Tavern Winterbell settled in to spend the rest of the afternoon drinking iced firepetal tea under the big tree outside the tavern.

Before leaving Balmora she'd procured a copy of _The Poison Song: Complete and Unabridged_. The tea was soon left forgotten at her elbow as she was soon lost in the creepy story.

When someone put a hand on her shoulder she yelped and jumped. She turned to the source of her distraction. Marayan looked almost as startled as she did; holding his hand up as if it had been burned.  
"What are you doing here? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"  
"I'm sorry, I had no idea you were so highly strung. What on earth are you reading?"  
Winterbell held up the book, "You didn't answer my question, Dren."  
"I'm visiting my brother. After the incident yesterday Estir was only too happy to give me some time off." He nodded at the book, "I remember sneaking that out of Vedam's library when I was fourteen. It gave me nightmares. What are _you_ doing here?"  
"I'm on holiday."  
"Estir gave you time off as well?"  
"It didn't even cross my mind to ask her," Winterbell said cheerfully.  
Marayan nodded resignedly, "You will be you, Winterbell. I'll probably see you later; I should go and pay my respects to my brother."  
"Probably. Don't kill each other." She waved her hand and returned to her book.

For reasons she wasn't quite sure of, Winterbell decided to be sociable and have dinner downstairs in the tavern. She even pulled her hair up. As it turned out, 'sociable' actually meant sitting in the corner reading. Winterbell stayed there for most of the evening, and it wasn't until the barmaid started hinting that it was close to closing time that Winterbell noticed Marayan hadn't returned.

She briefly considered the possibility that his brother had done him in, and then dismissed it as unlikely. Besides, she thought, she wasn't going to save his sorry hide twice in as many days. Winterbell eventually gave up and went to bed.

The bed was comfortable but Winterbell couldn't sleep. The cool breeze that wafted in off the lake was laden with the scent of flowers and just as Winterbell started to drift off a guard would walk past, his steel boots clopping on the paving stones. Winterbell irritably shut the window, but then it was too warm to sleep.

Winterbell crankily got out of bed and opened the windows again. The two moons bathed Pelagiad in an orangey light and Winterbell leant on the windowsill and wondered why she was worried about sleeping. She was on holiday; she could sleep in as late as she pleased the next day. With a snap of her fingers Winterbell lit the lamps in her room and looked for her book.

Five minutes later had Winterbell wishing she knew a detect book spell. With a sigh she decided she'd left it downstairs in the tavern. Hastily shrugging on a robe and grabbing a candlestick Winterbell padded downstairs.

The tavern was dark and silent, with all the chairs stacked on top of the tables. Winterbell wandered behind the bar, assuming that if anyone had found the book they would have put in there. Sure enough, the tome was sitting on a pile of trays behind the counter. Winterbell picked up the book and dusted it off critically, checking to make sure it was still in one piece.

"Hey, whatrr you doin'?" Winterbell jumped as she heard a masculine voice rumble out of the shadows. She frowned and snapped her fingers again, and a candle spluttered to life near the elbow of the person huddling at one of the tables over the far side of the room.

Marayan grimaced and shielded his eyes from the sudden light. The Dunmer had been there some time, judging by the bottles in front of him. Winterbell raised an eyebrow and sauntered over.  
"Oh, 's you 'Bell. I thought it mightta been a thief."  
"I'm not the one helping myself to the supplies of flin. Dren, what are you doing?"  
"Doing?" He thumped his hand on the table, "I'm…I'm drinking. Quite a lot, as it sho happens."  
"I suppose your credit is good. Try not to trip over anything on the way upstairs, I'll see you later."

"No!" His hand shot out and surprisingly strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, "Siddown 'Bell! You jus' come and go an' you _never_...jus' siddown."  
Winterbells lips thinned in annoyance, but eventually she slid into the seat opposite Marayan.  
"I'm going to make you pay for that when you're sober." She pulled her robe closer around her shoulders, "Fine, have it your way, Dren. What did your brother say?"  
"Wha?"  
"Well it's obvious _something_ brought on this uncharacteristic bought of debauchery, and I don't think even Estir could blame my influence."  
"Orvas didn' say anythin'. It wasn' like that." He lapsed into silence and Winterbell thought wistfully of her bed.

"I grew up there," he said quietly. "On th' plantation. We'd play bandits in the fields and go exshploring. Orvas nearly got me gored by a nix once- he got a real beating for that one. It was _home_." He looked at her beseechingly, willing her to understand.

Winterbell kept her face neutral, "I take it it's changed a bit?"  
"A bit?" He snarled and waved his arm, "A lot!"  
"Yes, I gathered- just get to the flaming point!" Winterbell whispered with irritation. She was less impatient with his explanation and more worried that he was going to wake someone up.

"'S horrible." He leant forward and glared at her, "The slaves are treated like- worse than animals. It's like a prison," he enunciated carefully, pushing the words out one by one. "There are so many graves. He's…he's using sugar to keep the slaves in line. And…" He ran a hand across his forehead and gave a dry sob.

"I looked up to him. I trusted him. He is so self-righteous, so smug and sure of himself." Marayan's face was twisted with rage; Winterbell had never seen him so vehement. "And Vedam isn't going to do anything, oh no. He's not going to listen to _me_. I'm just the youngest one who sits around reading booksh. I don' understand _politics_ the way my preshious, oh-so-worldly brothers do."

"Look, Dren, calm down, please?" Winterbell held up her hands in a placatory gesture.  
"Why should I calm down?" he growled, "No matter _what_ I do, it won't make a differensh. No one lishens to the black guar- I'm just there on suff...sh…that thing. Just 'cause _I_ had the guts to go against Father's great plan-"  
"Dren." Winterbell reached across and covered his hand with her own, "You had no obligation to follow your parent's wishes. You don't need to feel guilty."  
"…'Bell," his words were suddenly think and clumsy, "how'd you?"  
"I could read the guilt off your face. Besides, I've been there. In my case, I knew my parents were motivated by genuine concern."  
"But to let down the family-"  
"I suppose it's different in Cyrodil. There aren't any ancestral tombs, everyone's out for themselves, not their family."  
"Thoshe are Imperial ways-" He winced, "I'm startin' to sound like Orvas." He rested his head on the table miserably.  
"You're not in any state to work things out now. Look, why don't you go to bed?"

He looked up at her blearily, "'Bell, will you help?"  
"Help?"  
"There's…I can't ask Ilmeni, and I…I can't do this by myself. You're always so certain of things."  
"I may always _appear_ to be certain. Look, it's your life and your family, but the offer still stands- if you want anyone…disposed of."  
He finally cracked a smile, "So…yes?"  
Winterbell removed her hand and gave and kind of half-shrug half-nod. "I'm going to regret this. Now, will you _please_ go to bed?"  
He frowned, "I think," he said carefully, "It would be shimpler if I shtayed here."

Winterbell rolled her eyes and tucked the book into a pocket of her robe, "I disagree, and if I was any better at alteration I'd float you upstairs irregardless of your opinion."  
She circled around and took a hold of his arm, "Are you gonna fight me?"  
He shook his head, "…I'd lose."  
"Right."

Marayan allowed Winterbell to steer him upstairs, the drunken mage stubbing his toes on every step. Winterbell did her best not to breathe. Eventually they swayed and stumbed their way to his room. Winterbell propped him up against the doorjamb.  
"All right, I'm not going to tuck you in. You can sleep on the floor for all I care. Just don't cause me any more trouble tonight, okay?"  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you trouble, 'Bell."  
She shrugged.  
"Can…can I make it up to you?"  
She raised her eyebrows, "Just what do you have in mind?" she asked warily.  
He frowned at her, "Never mind that now, I want to know what _you_ have in mind."  
"Get to the point!" she snapped.  
"Tomorrow, how about lunch?"  
"All right." He looked surprised at her agreement. "We'll see if you're awake by noon, shall we?"

She didn't wait for a reply, instead heading back to her room. She crawled back into bed and flicked through the book, looking for her place.  
"Just what is it about this wretched town that makes me be nice to people?"

She remembered Marayan's anger and his performance at the competition the day before and wondered if she'd been underestimating the mage. It had always been obvious that he was a younger sibling, but now it was looking like he was going to try and change his position in the pecking order. The Drens were major players in Morrowind politics, and Winterbell wondered if it might be advantageous to have the attention of the populace on them rather than her when she made her bid for power.

Yes, she thought, this may turn out to be a very smart move indeed, especially if Dren keeps quiet about any part I might play in his family drama. Not that she was looking for reasons to justify helping him; of course not. This was the kind of thing any concerned friend might do.


	31. What Kind of Friendship?

Morrowind belongs to Bethesda. Burntsierra, you're not going to miss these characters half as much as I will. -D

* * *

Winterbell was not surprised when Marayan failed to show up for breakfast the next day. Winterbell spent the morning shopping and making some discreet enquiries about the Dren plantation. 

Pelagiad was an Imperial town, and so she wasn't surprised to learn that the southern plantations and their owners were spoken of rather disparagingly by the locals. Here slavery was considered a barbaric practice, even by the Dunmer, who were keen to keep imperial gold flowing.

Most of the produce here was grown on small farms; the goods from the plantations were usually taken to Suran, by river barge or by guar train. Despite the lack of contact most people had something to say about the Dren Plantation, and none of it was nice.

The general consensus was that if the Duke really wanted to convince people that he was progressive and Imperial he should make an example of his brother. When Winterbell asked about the anti-Imperial sentiment that was fermenting in the older towns it was usually dismissed as merely a reactionary response from people who hadn't yet received the benefits of the new Empire-driven economy.

Winterbells eyes glazed over as the trader started talking about 'investment in infrastructure', 'economic shift away from primary industries' and 'guild-regulated fair trade'. By mid morning Winterbell decided that she hadn't really learned anything she didn't already know, but she could now make it sound much better. She'd also bought a new skirt.

Winterbell half-expected Marayan to stand her up, considering the condition he had been in the night before. She still wasn't really sure why she had accepted his invitation, and she was even less sure why she spent fifteen minutes combing her hair beforehand.

Winterbell had already found a seat at a table near the window when Marayan walked downstairs, only a few minutes after noon. Winterbell asked him if he felt all right.  
"I feel fine." He winked at her with a grin.  
"That's quite an achievement, considering."  
"It's one of the few things I'm glad I inherited from my father. Although it's not a talent I have a lot of use for."  
"Glad to hear it."  
He motioned to the serving girl. "Anyway, I don't want to talk or think about my family today."  
"Fair enough."  
"In fact, I'd be more interested to know what _you've_ been up to recently, Winterbell."  
"What do you mean?"  
"You're house is _packed_- oh, are you ready to order?"

After the serving girl had left with their orders Marayan continued, "I've never seen such a cluttered house. You've obviously been traveling far and wide."  
"I try to keep it tidy, really. I sell what I don't think I'll have any use for- but there are so many things that _might_ come in handy."  
"That attitude seems to be shared by most alchemists. Speaking of which…this might not be my business, but did you and Sharn have a fight?"  
Winterbell sighed, and quickly assembled a plausible answer, "You know Sharn has 'other projects' right? Well, I happened to meet her when I was traveling through the Gnisis area."  
"And you saw something you weren't meant to?"  
"Something like that. She knows I'm not about to turn her in, but she resents knowing that I _could_."  
"She should know better," he smiled. "You're the last person to worry about the letter of the law."

Marayan seemed more than happy to listen to her talk about her travels. He asked about the strange places she'd seen with an almost wistful air.  
"You're not going to take off and become an adventurer are you?" she asked finally, as she dissected a local dish of comberries and scrib jelly with her spoon.  
"I'm beginning to think I'd like to."  
"Most of the time it isn't that much fun, you know. There's the weather, and cliff racers, and lousy inns, and getting lost-"  
"I know all that. I wasn't being serious, really. I have a life I'm tied to here- responsibilities with the Guild and with, well, you know about them."  
"Responsibilities, huh? Rather you than me."  
"Well, if you're really planning on challenging Trebonius…"  
"Oh yes, that."  
"You've changed your mind?"  
"No. No, I'm going through with it. I just think it will be a temporary job."  
"What do you mean?"  
"You know my reasons. I want to get rid of that fatheaded fool in Vivec- I'm not keen on the job myself. So I go in, instigate a régime change and get out again."  
He frowned, "Have you really thought this through?"  
"Not yet." She pushed her plate away, "Look, I've made a few enemies on my travels, and I owe some people quite a lot-"  
"If you need any-"  
"Not money. Favours, deeds. I just want to even the score."  
"And you pity me for _my_ responsibilities. Yours sound a lot more complicated."  
"But far more fun," she smirked.

After lunch he suggested that they go and look at the lake, since it came so highly recommended. Winterbell had in fact seen it before more than once on her travels, but as little more that an obstacle between here and there.

"This weather is _perfect_." Marayan threw his head back and stretched, "I spend too much time indoors."  
"You live in Balmora, so I think you have a reasonable excuse."  
"Oh come on, everyone laughs about it, but it doesn't rain _that_ much." Winterbell raised an eyebrow. Marayan looked around at the clouds, so white they dazzled and at the sun-drenched spring grass and sighed.  
"Okay, maybe it does rain that much."  
Winterbell pointed to the east, "Red Mountain generates a lot of weather, not just ash storms. The clouds build up over the interior, and then get funneled west by the Foyada Mamaea range of mountains. So all the rain clouds end up over Balmora."  
Marayan's jaw dropped, "How do you know all that?" he asked incredulously.  
"I made it up," Winterbell deadpanned.  
"Wha-? Winterbell!" His mock-indignation dissolved into laughter and she joined in.

Still chuckling, they arrived at the edge of the lake. Winterbell fought her instinct to start collecting ingredients. She didn't have her bag on her, and she reminded herself sternly that she was on holiday, dammit, and wasn't going to do any work.

"You said you'd traveled around these parts before, didn't you?"  
"Yeah, but for some reason I never made it back to Pelagiad."  
"Show me the diamond mine then," he said eagerly, unthinkingly reaching over and taking her hand.  
Winterbell shook her head, "We aren't really equipped for diving. If the mine was accessible it would have already been mined."  
Well," he thought back over the stories she had told over lunch, "what about the mineral springs then?"  
"Okay, that shouldn't be too difficult." He released her hand and she started heading off along the lakeshore.

Winterbell led Marayan to a jumbled pile of stones on the edge of the lake. Inset into them was a wooden door, its timbers buckled and weathered. The door was held closed by the simplest of latches, and Winterbell propped it open with a stone.  
"In there?" Marayan asked, peering into the gloom. A breeze blew across the surface of the lake, making the cavern whistle hollowly.  
"There used to be bandits in there," Winterbell said. "But it's empty now. The springs are quite close to the entrance, don't worry."  
Marayan cast light on his shoes, and the shadows danced with every step as they ventured into the cave.

"When I was in the Cammona Tong," Marayan began, "there were these rumors of a crazy old lady who attacked bandit bases and robbed everyone blind."  
"You said yourself that my house is quite cluttered," Winterbell replied cryptically. "But I'm not the only one around who does this kind of stuff; I'm just the most memorable."  
"You are that."

Winterbell led them to a shallow pool in a little cavern of its own. The water bubbled gently, and the air smelt of minerals.  
"Here we are," Winterbell said, pulling off her shoes.  
Marayan sat down and started rolling up his trousers, "Is it hot?"  
"Nope, not at all." Winterbell flinched as her toes hit the water. "The bubbles tickle though."  
"Is it drinkable?" asked Marayan, glancing at a bucket the floated on the mineralized waters.  
She shrugged, "You tell me."  
Marayan cautiously dipped a finger in the water and licked it. "It's…interesting," he said, pulling a face.  
"The lake is salty, so they might not have had a choice. The nearest well is in Pelagiad."

They waded around for a while, and then padded back out into the afternoon sunshine, leaving damp footprints on the stone floor. They sat halfway up a hill that overlooked the northern half of the lake and watched the afternoon go by; talking about nothing in particular.

"…and so _that_ is why Ald'ruhn is the absolute worse place to visit. Even Seyda Neen has more interesting scenery. Honestly Dren, 'go to Ald'ruhn' was the worst piece of advice I've ever been given."  
"Winterbell." She looked over in surprise at his irritated tone. "Why do you never call me by my name? You're the one who's so keen on not being defined by your family and yet you always refer to me by my family name."  
"Maybe I'm trying to make a point."  
"Well don't! If you want to make a point just say it. We're supposed to be friends, so I think the least you could do is call me by my name."  
"Hmm…" Winterbell looked noncommittal.  
Marayan leaned over, refusing to let the point go, "Ma-ray-an. It's only three syllables; it's not that difficult, is it?"  
"Uhh…Marayan," she said softly, almost shyly.

He just looked at her for a few moments and then a delighted grin spread across his face, lighting up his eyes.  
"See? That was easy, wasn't it?"  
"Humph." Winterbell very deliberately turned her attention to the lake and the setting sun. Unbothered by her bad humour, Marayan flopped back onto the grass, still smiling.

"Hey Winterbell," he broke the silence thoughtfully. "Do you remember that time with that stuff?"  
"Hmm?"  
"The Telvanni stuff."  
Winterbell looked at him sharply, "Telvanni?"  
"The bug musk."  
"Do you _have_ to remind me?" She winced, "I've apologized once already-"  
"No, now _I_ have something to confess to." He took a deep breath, "I suppose by now you know quite well how obsessive and odd my family can be-"  
"I thought you weren't going to talk about them today?"  
"Will you be quiet for _one_ minute? This isn't about them." He sat up and glared at her irritably. When she didn't respond he continued, "Like I said, my father went to extraordinary lengths to make sure we all succeeded in the occupations we were assigned. We were to be the best diplomats, leaders, etcetera. Anyway." He sighed, "The point is, did you really think we weren't shown what Telvanni bug musk was like? It was a technique from the Imperial court; we were taught to resist the musk's effects."  
"Then I'm extremely grateful that such techniques haven't found their way too far east. I had enough trouble dealing with those idiot Redorans as it was."  
"As usual, Winterbell, my point sails over your head. Look, I know it was kind of cowardly, but you're not exactly the most approachable person in the world."  
Winterbell regarded him with a stubborn look. He shook his head, "What I mean is, everything I said…I meant it. I really-"  
"No, no, no." Winterbell shook her head and got to her feet. "I don't want to hear this." She started backing away.  
"Winterbell- hey!" He scrambled to his feet, "Why are you running away again? Why are you afraid?"  
"I'm not afraid; I just don't need to hear this." Her face was set into a mulish frown.  
"I can't imagine it's for my benefit." He kept walking towards her, "You're not one to spare other's feelings. I think I've got you finally figured out, Winterbell, I think I know why you're doing this." He stopped about a foot in front of her, his gaze thoughtful, and just a bit calculating.  
"I think," he tilted his head and smiled, "I think you don't want me to ask, because you don't want to say no."  
"That's-!"  
"Not true?" He stepped closer, "So you've got a better explanation? I don't think so, because I can see you trying to dredge one up."  
"You should go on holiday more often. It seems to supply you with bottomless reserves of courage," she said acidly.  
He actually laughed then; a single exhalation of amusement. "Do you actually think I'm afraid of you?"  
"Well, yes."  
He rested his hand on her shoulder, his fingers half an inch away from the base of her neck. "Now what kind of friendship would that be?" he murmured. Despite his words Winterbell sensed him nerve himself up before he bent his head to hers.

A scream of pure terror echoed across the lake.


	32. Truth Wounds

Morrowind belongs to Bethesda. You don't think I'm going to let Winterbell have it easy, do you?

* * *

Winterbell stepped back so fast she stumbled and nearly fell. Marayan flinched as majicka sparked around her- an instinctive defense. They both stopped dead, listening for a repeat performance, the almost-kiss forgotten. They weren't disappointed.

This time the scream was cut off midway. The source seemed to be on the other side of the lake. Winterbell grimly pulled on her shoes.  
"What are you doing?" Marayan turned to her.  
"I'm going to find out what's going on," she replied.  
"You're not armed!"  
"A mage is always armed. Are you coming too or what?"  
Marayan shook his head, "Let me put on my shoes then."

They cast water-walking on themselves and hurried across the lake, their footsteps sending ripples across the still surface. When they reached the opposite shore they stopped to listen and catch their breath.  
"Maybe a kagouti attacked a traveler?" Marayan suggested quietly.  
"Maybe, but what kind of traveler screams like that when confronted with a kagouti? And why did they stop?"

They continued on cautiously and quietly. Winterbell was about to shrug her shoulders and suggest that they go back to Pelagiad when Marayan laid a hand on her arm and silently pointed. In a little clearing off from the road two figures appeared to be fighting. Or rather, one was attacking, slowly and deliberately, and the other just stood there.

Winterbell noticed Marayan's puzzled frown and mouthed in his ear,  
"Paralysis."  
She wasn't prepared for the look of sheer horror that he gave her. He gripped her arm even tighter and tried to pull her away.  
"What's your problem?" she whispered, "It's just one bandit, and we can take him."  
"No we can't. That's one of the Ienith brothers!"  
"How do you know?"  
"Torturing slaves under paralysis is their favourite pastime. And Orvas said yesterday that one had escaped."  
"He's distracted, this is the perfect opportunity."  
"Yeah, until the other one slips his jinkblade between your ribs. They go _everywhere_ together, but you never see more than one. We have to get out of here, the other one could be anywhere!" He looked about wildly.  
Winterbell frowned unhappily as she quickly recalculated the odds and decided she didn't like the result.

Suddenly the torturer ceased his attacks and looked around. The sound of his voice drifted indistinctly over to the watchers.  
"He knows we're here! Run!" Marayan pulled Winterbell away. She looked back once more - the sinister figure had recommenced attacking his victim – and then turned to flee.

Marayan lead them back towards the lake until Winterbell pulled him off to the side.  
"What are you doing? We have to get back to town."  
"If we go across the lake he'll spot us, and he'll be waiting for us. We can't hope to outrun him. You're a Dren, can't you call him off?"  
"No. For one thing, they're crazy, and for another, you remember what they were going to do to Ilmeni."  
"All right, I'll find us somewhere to hide, follow me." Winterbell crept off along the shore.

"Heh, perfect." Her lips curled into a smile.  
"Winterbell, we can't go in there, that's-"  
"A tomb. And if an educated man like you doesn't want to go in there I can't imagine Ienith will either."  
"But-"  
Winterbell pulled open the door, "You can stay out here, if you like." Marayan glared at her for a second and then shrugged and followed her in.  
"Just don't touch anything," he entreated.

They bundled into the entranceway and Winterbell magically locked the door behind them as Marayan glanced about nervously, as if expecting spectral ancestors to appear and punish their trespass.  
"We should be all right in here." Marayn jumped at her voice; she was making no effort to be quiet.  
"Shh!" He held up his hand. Winterbell merely looked amused.

Winterbell was going to suggest for her companion's sake that they remain near the door when the sound of footsteps echoed up from deeper in the tomb.  
"Ancestral guardians," Marayan whispered.  
Winterbell shook her head, "They don't wear boots," she said flatly, as magicka began to spark around her hands.  
"You mean there are grave robbers in here?" Marayan sounded a lot more sure of himself, and angry.  
"Maybe. You want to go and see?" He gave a determined nod and they started down the stairs.

Marayan cast a shielding spell as Winterbell eased open the door at the base of the stairs. They were anticipated.

The creature on the other side gave a distorted shout of glee and lunged at Winterbell, white eyes staring, gleaming fangs extended.  
"Vampire!" Marayan shouted in surprise.  
"_Burn_." Winterbell's expression was more frightening than the undead's. Marayan held up his hands to shield his face from the heat of Winterbell's spell. The vampire screamed again and dissolved into a pile of dust. The wall behind it was slightly charred.

"That was…I thought vampires were supposed to be tough!" Marayan sounded almost disappointed.  
"They are if you're all dolled up in armour and relying on a sword." Winterbell smiled eerily, "Do you know what vampires are weak against? _Mages_."  
"There's going to be more, isn't there?" Marayan peered down the corridor.  
"A whole nest."  
"Are you gonna teach me the trick then?"  
"Nothing to it." She grinned.

A surprisingly short amount of time later they were in the innermost room of the tomb, the last vampire turning to dust at their feet. Winterbell was drinking a potion as Marayan stared at his hands.  
"I never thought I'd kill vampires," he said wonderingly.  
"They are rather pathetic creatures," Winterbell stated. "They are a lot less than the myths build them up to be."  
"I believe we did a good thing, coming in here and getting rid of them," he said, more to the silent inhabitants of the tomb than to Winterbell.

Winterbell untied her moneybag and dumped the contents on the floor of the tomb.  
"What are you doing?" he asked as he watched the coins roll off in all directions. Winterbell knelt down next to the remains of the vampire and carefully started scraping the ash into the bag.  
"I don't care if I _am_ on holiday. Have you any idea how much this stuff is _worth_?"

Marayan sat down with his back to the wall while Winterbell wandered off to collect the rest of the vampire dust. When she returned he was trying to flip one of the coins along his knuckles, will little success.  
"Most productive," she declared. She tied the bag back onto her belt and started examining the offerings that decorated the urn stands and bone pits. Marayan watched her with an increasingly irritated expression on his face.

When she picked up a book and started reading it he'd finally had enough.  
"Will you stop that!" he snapped.  
"What? I'm only reading it."  
"Yeah, and I know what you'd be doing if I wasn't here. You'd be plundering the place."  
Winterbell squinted at the name on one of the urns. "Sandas. Anyone you know?" she asked rather sarcastically.  
"That's not the point!" Marayan got to his feet. "It's wrong to steal from the dead. Immoral. You shouldn't do it."  
"That's just what _you_ believe. Sixth House Cultists believe that cannibalism will turn them into gods, are you going to defend them as well?"  
"What do you believe then?"  
"Me?" She looked rather surprised.  
"Don't tell me; I already know. You believe that anything is justified as long as it benefits Winterbell."  
"I'm just trying to survive, like anyone else. Not that _you'd_ understand."  
"Oh no, you don't have that excuse. Not anymore." He started pacing the length of the room, "I could buy it when you first arrived. Frankly I half-expected you to die in those first weeks. Maybe then your argument held water, but not anymore, Winterbell. Look at you, you're wealthy, respected-"  
"You're making it sound like I'm murdering innocent nix-puppies. These people are _dead_ D- Marayan. I really don't think I'm bothering them."  
"You're bothering me. You're bothering all those people who visit the graves of their ancestors only to see them desecrated." He halted in front of her, his eyes flashing with anger, "Look, I'm a mage. I know how magic works. I even have some idea how necromancy works. I know dear old Auntie isn't watching over me while I sleep, but our ancestors live on. In here." He thumped his chest. "And that is how your actions are hurting people."  
"Your ancestors live on in there? From what I know of your family that can't be healthy."

Marayan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You know, I don't know why I care, I really don't. You, Winterbell, have no empathy. You don't care about anyone else. The world revolves around _you_." He wasn't even glaring at her anymore, in fact he sounded almost sad, "I'm _your_ friend, but you're not mine. You weigh everything up, and ultimately you're the only thing that matters to you. You're the most egotistical, self-centred person I think I've ever met."  
Winterbell shut the book with a snap and slammed it back on the stand. "That's unfair and you know it! Who was the one who eventually got you and your niece out of the swamps in one piece? Did you really think that you would have made it out on your own? I also agreed to help you deal with the rest of your rotten family. Suddenly this is all for my benefit now, is it?"

"You know what, I think it is. I think your using my family to get over yours. Your passionate declarations of familial freedom reek of denial to me, Winterbell. The Dunmer know the importance of the clan, even if they are raised in Cyrodil."  
"You know nothing about my family." Winterbell's eyes were slitted in rage. "I'd have thought you'd have understood what it was like, being told what to do and who to be. I followed my dream; is that a crime now?"  
"I followed my dream too, but I didn't turn my back on my family."  
"And we all know that turned out so well for you."

They were both shouting now, circling each other in the centre of the tomb like a pair of duelling nix.  
"Stop comparing. You're family isn't mine! I think the fact that you still feel so guilty says quite a bit about how you treated them."  
"I accepted _all_ the consequences of my actions. My choices, my suffering."  
"Only they suffered as well-"  
"They didn't have to!"  
"They suffered because they loved you. I know that my family cares only for its own status. I know that my goals and ideas were nothing to them. But your family- I think they wanted the best for you, they didn't want to watch you kill yourself by practicing magic. You admitted it yourself, earlier. _I would have killed for a family like that_!"  
"I will not give up my magic-"  
"And you'll never compromise either, will you? It's your way or no way." He threw his hands up in the air, "Ultimately all you're going to hurt is yourself, Winterbell," he said, more quietly now. "Because no matter how …fascinating I find you, being around you is so _unfair_, I just-" He shook his head.

Winterbell looked away, "Well you don't have to be around me if you don't want to. I'd hate to force my company on you."  
"I just want you to see others as people. I just want you to see me…"

The argument seemed to have burned itself out. Marayan picked up another coin and tried again to flip it over his knuckles. Winterbell leant against one of the stands, tapping her heel against it.  
"You really think you've got me all figured out, don't you?"  
"Hardly," he replied. "I have no idea where you are most of the time, you just come and go like Kaijit Tom. I'm still not sure how you amassed all that money, and all those things." He frowned thoughtfully. "You need a bigger house, that's for sure, although I still don't see…"

He trailed off for the second time and Winterbell got such a sudden sense of foreboding she nearly felt sick. He let the coin drop to the floor and Winterbell watched as he fitted things together in his head.

"No…that's crazy." He looked up at her and their eyes met, her gaze silently daring him to say another word. He scrambled to his feet, still looking shell-shocked.  
"I don't believe it," he was nodding to himself as if the solution to a particularly knotty problem had just presented itself. "I don't believe it," he repeated, beginning to pace around her, his amazement quickly being replaced by anger.

Winterbell still wasn't prepared for the venom in his tone when he finally stopped and faced her. He pulled his lips back in a snarl and spat,  
"You…traitorous, Telvanni, _bitch_!"


	33. Temporary Suspension of Belief

Well, last chapter certainly brought some lurkers out of the woodwork. And it's nice to see that other people like Marayan as well; most of the positive feedback I get is about Baladas… Anyway, Morrowind belongs to Bethesda. –D

* * *

Winterbell's suddenly grew very still, her eyes narrow. Marayan glared at her, daring her to prove him wrong.  
"May I ask how you arrived at such a bold conclusion?" she asked.  
"The Staff of Peace. You have it in your house, alongside your Guild Wizard's Staff." Marayan talked fast, pushing the words out as if they tasted bad. "I wondered why you kept it; you said you had no space."  
Winterbell raised an eyebrow, "It's hardly a unique artifact."  
Marayan continued, "The staff has no practical value, and it would be worth a bit at the armourer's. Why would you keep it?" He paused, "It has ceremonial value- if you're a Mouth of the Great House Telvanni."  
"You're really getting good at this," Winterbell said approvingly.  
"I didn't want to believe it, but it explains where you go all the time. And why you're so wealthy. I bet Sharn already knows…that's why she suddenly took a disliking to you. What did you do to her?" His anger did not seem to be dissipating.  
"Nothing, I merely explained the situation to her."  
"Liar," he growled, "I can't believe anything you say anymore. Telvanni- _how could you_?"  
"I wasn't that difficult, really-"  
"Just shut up! Now I know why Orvas was so smug. And all those cryptic comments about the Guild's standards." He ran his hand over his face, "I look like an idiot- I am an idiot!"  
"Not really. It's not the most obvious of conclusions to jump to- and it was sheer bad luck that Sharn found out in the first place."  
"How can you be so calm about this?" Winterbell winced as he shouted at her. The louder and angrier he became the calmer she looked, almost bored. This only served to infuriate him more, but Winterbell didn't trust herself to feel anything at that moment, and so she kept her emotions bound by her iron willpower.

Suddenly Marayan remembered, "You were planning on becoming Archmage! A Telvanni leading the Guild- you were going to destroy us," he ground out through gritted teeth. His hands clenched into fists, and only some shred of chivalry or self-preservation prevented him from hitting her.  
"Now you're jumping a little far for your conclusions-"  
"No, I don't want to hear. I have to think about things." He half-turned away, "This adventure is over." He looked at her, "This friendship is over."

He went through his pockets until he found a scroll, and without another word he cast it, vanishing from the tomb in a flurry of magicka. Winterbell waited until the last glittering flakes had vanished before she even moved.  
"See if I care," she said flatly.

Her mood black and vindictive, Winterbell would have looted the tomb if she'd had her bag with her. As it was she merely pulled out an amulet and cast it, reducing her form to a shadowy outline.

She hurried across the lake, still shadowed. If Ienith could find her in the middle of the night with chameleon spell of that strength cast on her, he deserved to stick a knife between her ribs, she reflected. She assumed Marayan had used an intervention scroll of some description – a traditional strategy of last resort she had done away with months ago in favour of her own mysticism skills.

She hurried back to her room at the inn – she didn't see Marayan – and collected her things. She was rather disappointed that she'd paid for her room in advance; she was in the mood to hurt someone, anyone, and the management of the inn was a good a target as any.

A single recall spell and Winterbell's holiday ended as abruptly as it had begun.

Back in Balmora Winterbell threw together a late dinner and ate it without tasting any of it. It was all so stupid, she thought. Damage control was probably in order, and if Marayan couldn't be brought around she should probably kill him, she reasoned.

All the reasoning in the world couldn't negate the fact that she deserved everything he'd said to her and more. She rested her forehead on the table and just wished the world would go away. Especially the bit with Marayan Dren in it.

Winterbell awoke with sore neck and a stiff back, her head still resting on the table. She blinked sleepily before the memories of the evening's events pushed her forcefully into wakefulness.

"Well there's no point moping," she said to herself. Guilt wasn't really an option either, she decided, and so she let her anger drown out everything else. Cold, rational, anger.  
"Who needs him anyway?" she shrugged.

She glanced at her journal, even though she knew what was in it, and an angry, satisfied smile spread across her face.  
"Baladas."

There was almost a spring in her step when she walked to the stilt strider, her boots clopping against the cobbles and her gleaming hammer strapped to her back.

The trek through the Ashlands brought what Winterbell believed was a certain distance and clarity to the situation. There was a lesson to be learned from Baladas here, and that was the pointlessness of worrying about things that were over. And she certainly wasn't going to take centuries to work that out.

How dare Marayan bring up her family of all things, she glowered as she brought down a cliff-racer. Once you were past something it was counter-productive to dig it all up again. A lame corpus finally fell over, three arrows though its skull. All that soul-searching had apparently made him frighteningly perceptive- and she had encouraged him, humph!

As for what had happened that afternoon – no, that didn't bear thinking about at all, and Winterbell was glad she'd arrived at the Dwemer ruin Baladas had described.

Despite being experienced in Dwemer archeology, Winterbell found this ruin was quite a challenge; the number of mechanical guards disproportionate to its small size.

As for the ghost of Dahrk Mezalf himself, he put up a huge fight. A few of Winterbell's spells rebounded off the spectre and by the time the fight was over Winterbell was splattered with glowing ectoplasm and a little singed. Winterbell got down on her knees and forced herself to run her hands though the pile of supernatural goo on the floor until she found the ring.

She tried it on briefly and then carefully put it in her bag. She leant against a wall and drank potions, her mood vastly improved by the fighting. Marayan, she decided, could be categorized with her family and most of the rest of the world as someone who would just hold her back. She was making history here!

She pulled out her map and calculated that Alumsivi intervention ought to take her straight to Gnisis. As it turned out this was not the case, and Winterbell found herself back in Maar Gan.

The stilt strider was halfway to Gnisis before Winterbell realized she'd been doing nothing but think about Marayan. She scowled to herself,  
"It's over. Think about something else, you stupid old woman. Someone else."

"Baladas!" Winterbell called up the stairs, fending off Zergonipal with practiced ease.  
"Welcome back, Winterbell." The wizard's voice floated down the stairs, "You don't sound like you're in a good mood."

"I'm fine," she declared as she propped her bag against the wall. "And how are you?"  
Baladas flicked the feathery end of a quill against his cheek thoughtfully, "I'm writing some letters to the Emperor."  
"I had no idea you were on such close terms, although it doesn't surprise me." Winterbell scanned the missive up-side down from across the desk.  
"Well, not the Emperor personally. Merely his local representative. They're trying to get me to pay taxes again."  
"Oh."  
"They weren't this pushy a century ago," he frowned.  
Winterbell chuckled, "I can't imagine anyone forcing you to do anything you didn't want to."  
"Then why do you sound so speculative, I wonder."  
"What?"

"Oh, nothing. So, Winterbell, to what do I owe the pleasure?"  
Winterbell wandered away from his desk and sat in a chair near the fire.  
"This Guild thing is getting complicated," she started.  
"Someone else found out? You've handled things like this before."  
"This is somewhat different."  
Baladas walked over and handed her a mug of tea before sitting in the chair opposite her. "Bribery?" he suggested.  
"He's stinking rich."  
"Blackmail then."  
"I don't think so; he's so honourable it's sickening."  
Baladas thought briefly, "Ah, the Dren. Yes, I see your problem. His death or disappearance would cause comment as well."  
"To be honest, I couldn't kill him," she confessed. "He is- _was_ a friend."  
"Well, there's your answer," Baladas leaned forward, "just talk him around."  
"He's Hlaalu. He hates me now." Winterbell couldn't keep some of her distress from shading her tone.  
"You're taking this a little personally, aren't you? I mean, it's all going to become public knowledge sometime."  
"Humph."

Baladas watched her thoughtfully for a while, and eventually he reached over and put a hand on her shoulder, "You're not thinking rationally at the moment. I'm not really sure- but the point is, take a day or two to calm down. I doubt in that time he could cause you any irreparable damage."Winterbell looked at him, "I'm never going on holiday again," she stated.  
"Sounds like you had the wrong kind of holiday."  
"Can I use your workbench?" she changed the subject.

Winterbell sat and made potions, feeling somewhat calmer now she was back within Baladas's small, scholarly world. She didn't want to live here, but it was a restful place to visit. Her host was back at his desk, ostensibly working on his letter, although he spent most of his time watching her.

"Winterbell," he finally broke the silence, "let me take you somewhere."  
"Huh? Where?" She looked up, startled.  
"Out. For dinner. Somewhere where there are no Telvanni, Guild, Hlaalu or anyone else."  
Winterbell felt herself smile, "There's a place like that? But I'm not really dressed for-"  
"Never mind, it's one of the privileges of being a wizard; you're allowed to be eccentric."  
Winterbell nodded, "All right then."

Baladas held out his hand, "It's much quicker by magic."  
"We're going now?"  
"I don't see any reason to delay."  
Winterbell reached out and took his hand as magicka swirled about them.

"I've been here before," Winterbell said as she looked about.  
"Dagon Fel; the end of the world. Except that it isn't, of course. However, the food here is excellent."  
"We certainly won't be recognized."

It was a very pleasant dinner. Baladas did his best to be charming, and Winterbell found herself a bit dazzled by it. He regaled her with stories about their fellow Telvanni, that may or may not have been true, and she was quite disappointed when the meal was over.

"It doesn't really feel like spring here yet," Winterbell said as they walked outside, their breath clouding in front of their faces.  
"It's past midnight, no wonder it's cold. Do you want to go home?"  
"Hmm." Winterbell was noncommittal as she examined one of the Dwemer walls that sectioned the town.  
Baladas tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe, "Aren't you cold?"  
"Maybe," she replied. "I don't feel quite myself."  
He stepped closer, "You're still you, Winterbell, it's just a different…situation."  
"Am I really such a terrible person?"  
"Winterbell!" She jumped as he snarled at her. "I don't know what that boy did to you, but I'd like it if it was undone. Your lack of conscience and your boundless self-assurance; sometimes I think you're more Telvanni than I am. Stop trying to mould yourself to fit the Guild. Be who you are."  
"No compromises?" She raised an eyebrow at him.  
"None," he grinned.

"I wonder if I can make you regret that," she muttered to herself. She turned to him and said in a louder voice, "Let's go back."  
A fleeting expression of satisfaction crossed his face and he held out his hand. Winterbell didn't miss the certain smug air about him, and she took a certain satisfaction from his obliviousness to her true mood.

He can't read me at all, she thought. But I can read you, oh great and mighty wizard, like an open book. I know you thought you were using me; not so sure now, are you? You want Telvanni? I'll give you Telvanni. My absolute worst – Marayan has no clue as to just how vicious I can be. And I'll make him pay. And I'll make you pay.


	34. A Little Light Conversation

Exams are coming up. I'll update when I can. Morrowind belongs to Bethesda and as for Winterbell, I've disowned her. -D

* * *

"I have something for you," Winterbell grinned when they arrived back at Arvs Drelen.  
Baladas raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"  
Winterbell fished through her bag and tossed Baladas the ring.  
"Ah, Mezalf's ring," he said, pleased. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten it again."  
"You thought I'd forget it twice?" Winterbell asked indignantly.  
He chuckled as he walked past her to put the ring on his desk, "I wouldn't put anything past you, Winterbell."  
"Is that a compliment or not?" she asked rhetorically.  
"You're fishing for compliments now?" He stepped up behind her, "I think I have something you'll like much better."  
"Really?"  
"Close your eyes." 

Winterbell looked at him warily for a moment then folded her arms and shut her eyes. Baladas put a hand on her shoulder and guided her across the room.  
"You've done some useful chores for me, and I haven't really rewarded you."  
"I think you've done enough to make us even."  
"Now, don't be ungracious. Just stand right…there for a moment please."  
"What are you doing?" Winterbell felt him move away.  
"Just a moment – there, all yours."  
Winterbell opened her eyes.

"Uhh, Baladas, I've already seen this." Three feet in front of her was the Dwemmer centurion, steam jetting from its joints.  
He shook his head, "I know that, Winterbell. My point is that it's yours now. It will serve you well, and no one else."  
"Mine?" Winterbell looked at the construction with new eyes. "Wow," she breathed.

She walked a few steps and the construct followed her, its green optic sensor fixed unwaveringly on her.  
"Fold down!" she ordered. It did nothing.  
Baladas laughed, "You'll have to use the standard commands. Here," he handed her a sheaf of papers, "that's the manual."  
"Stand by."  
"Attention."  
"Stay."  
"Protect."

Baladas perched on the arm of a chair and watched Winterbell play with her new toy, a pleased grin on his face. Zergonipal was dreadfully curious, but had been ordered long ago not to touch the centurion, and so contented himself with sidling up to the construct and then leaping away again when it hissed.

"So you like it?" he asked when Winterbell eventually ordered the machine to fold itself away.  
"Of course I do!" Winterbell still looked rather stunned. "But how do I keep it in one piece?"  
"Well, theoretically," Baladas stood and wandered over to her, "healing magic should work. I mean, they are magical constructs. Although I must confess I got it working more by trial and error; I could be completely wrong."  
Winterbell turned back to the now-inert metal ball, "Hmm…maybe I should just keep it as a butler or something…it's not as if I need its help. Does it do dishes?"  
"Uhh…" Baladas was nonplussed. "If they're extraordinarily _sturdy_ dishes, I suppose."  
"And where am I going to keep it? I might have to shift those urns into the other corner…"  
"Look, if you don't want it I'll take it back!" He reached forward and made a grab for the manual.

"No!" Winterbell protested and hugged the papers against her chest. Baladas laughed and tried to prize her fingers from around them.  
"You can't do this," Winterbell gasped with mixed indignation and laughter.  
"Can't I?" Winterbell inhaled sharply and stopped dead still when she felt his lips on her neck.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a sharp tone. He didn't resist when she ducked away from him and regarded him warily.  
He folded his arms and grinned at her knowingly, "Oh come on, Winterbell. I think you know how you're acting. And I find it hard to believe that the opinion of some boyish fop could unhinge you to the extent that you _don't_ know what you're doing."  
Winterbell raised an eyebrow, "And what exactly am I doing?"  
"You are…approaching me with a certain uncharacteristic abandon," his voice lowered, "and I'm not complaining."  
All trace of good humour had left Winterbell's expression, "Hmm…" She eyed him thoughtfully.  
"There you go again with that odd expression." He laughed again, "You're either planning to kill me or undressing me mentally."

And you're irritating me again, Baladas, she thought. That's a shame, because your Dwemmer toy nearly distracted me, and you all might have got away from me in one piece. Out loud she said,  
"Care to find out?"

His eyes widened in surprise as she grabbed him by the collar of his linen shirt and pulled him into a bruising kiss.

"That was…unexpected," Baladas said finally, running his hand through his hair. "But not unwelcome," he decided, as he regained his composure. "Although you seem to have lost your enthusiasm already."

"I don't think this is a good idea." Winterbell refused to meet his eyes.  
"Oh, why?"  
"I can't do this," she said, more to herself than to the wizard in front of her.  
"And just what," steel entered his voice, "did you think you were doing? You see, Winterbell, I have the feeling you haven't been…entirely straightforward about your motives."  
"I'm never straightforward about my motives," she declared. "That's the Telvanni way, isn't it?"  
"Telvanni are always straightforward about their motives, because they only have two; knowledge and power. But you're playing a different game, I think."  
"Oh really?" Winterbell smiled a sharp little smile, "I could say the same about you."  
He raised an eyebrow, "Go ahead."  
"Well," Winterbell's gaze flicked to the centurion briefly, "if that isn't a gift 'beyond magnificent' I don't know what is."  
"Oh, so you think I'm using you to try and correct what was, quite frankly, a disastrous relationship with Drev?"  
"You mean to say you're not?"

Winterbell jumped as Baladas slammed the palm of his hand in the wall above her head. His eyes glittered,  
"Hasn't it occurred to you, Winterbell, that I might be intelligent enough to have observed some subtle difference between you and Drev? And despite the fact that news of her death was somewhat of a shock I am more than capable of moving on."  
Winterbell looked up defiantly at him, "You could have fooled me."  
"Apparently I did," he said with a trace of contemptuous amusement. "Which leads me to wonder, if you're so sure I was using you, why did you go along with it?"  
She shrugged, "It's the Telvanni way, isn't it? Although I see I'll have to work on appearing oblivious."  
"You'll have to work on your lying as well. I think I see what's going on here – it's quite charming really." He paused briefly to collect his thoughts, and Winterbell sensed that trying to argue or move away at this stage would not be wise.  
"Here's this girl, and from where I'm standing you _are_ just a girl, who gets angry because one of her playmates doesn't like her any more. And being the little ball of rage that she is, she decides to take it out on someone." He said all this is in a light, conversational tone, as Winterbell began to wish the floor would open up and swallow her.

"You disappoint me," he said in a somewhat harsher tone, "with just how much you have underestimated me. And I wonder who else you have underestimated, and what kind of trouble this will cause in the future."  
"Stop being so melodramatic. Everything was fine until a few days ago."  
He sighed, "You're young and inexperienced. I suppose something like this was bound to happen sooner or later, and you should be grateful that it was me you underestimated. I am on your side, remember?"  
"You're a Telvanni; you're on your side," Winterbell replied flatly. "And I'm a bit old to be called young."  
"Winterbell, when I called you friend I meant it. Yes, you're a little outclassed, but that doesn't mean I can't like you." He tilted her chin up with his finger, "Or more," he added.

"You just said you knew all this was to take out my anger on someone," Winterbell blustered. "What do you think you're doing?"  
"I do so enjoy seeing you off-balance and out of your depth occasionally, Winterbell."  
"I'll make a note of that," she growled.  
He laughed, "You do that." He finally stepped away from her and Winterbell allowed herself to relax a bit.  
"Now what?"  
"You take the advice I handed to you last time you visited. You go and talk to the boy and you either kill him or convince him to remain on your side. And then, hopefully, I get my favourite back the way she was."  
"Do you really think things will go back the way they were?"  
"Between us? That is entirely for you to say." He swept into a bow that wasn't entirely mocking.

"I have to go." Winterbell walked over to the top of the stairs and picked up her bag. "Keep the centurion here for now, when I get my tower I'll install him in there. It should make an appropriately intimidating butler."  
"Winterbell," he looked at her seriously, "Don't you ever try anything like this ever again. I mean it. Just remember to whom you owe your startling success." His tone slid his words along the knife-edge between advice and threat.  
"I haven't forgotten. I haven't forgotten who I owe and what I owe, and I swear I will see all my debts settled."  
"That sounds rather final. Are you planning on going somewhere without telling us, Winterbell?"  
"Not yet."

Winterbell made her escape and recalled back to her house, feeling more humiliated than when she had been rejected by the Cyrodil Mage's Guild for the fifth and final time. She knew it could have gone a lot worse, and that she should be grateful for the fact that Baladas didn't take her seriously.

"Some Telvanni I turned out to be," she said morosely to herself. She should have known better than to try and fool Baladas, and Marayan. "I can't do this alone," she finally admitted. Things had to be sorted out before the Grand Council Meeting, she decided. She was getting sick of playing this game.

She knew she was incapable of killing Marayan; he hadn't done anything wrong, although as far as Winterbell was concerned she hadn't either. She couldn't kill him, but if she couldn't talk him around it would be a mistake to let him do as he pleased. Winterbell decided her options were limited to threatening other members of the Guild or Ilmeni, both of which presented further problems.

Winterbell was still considering which plan would be better when she recalled Marayan's diatribe on selfishness.

"What does he expect?" she snarled to the empty room, "It's not something I've been keeping secret. Although…" If she was truly selfish she wouldn't be in this mess, with Baladas or Marayan. She could have bluffed one and removed the other if she had been as ruthless as she told herself she was.

Baladas…could go rot, she decided. Whether or not he was bluffing about being so blasé about the whole matter was irrelevant. She now knew better than to try and second-guess the old wizard. When he had told the story of his exile Winterbell had believed he was trying to show he trusted her – now she was beginning to wonder how much of his version was true.

There was no doubt he liked her, but Winterbell felt she was a recipient of the same detached affection he showed Zergonipal. Maybe in a few centuries he'd consider her his equal. Winterbell was quite confident that she wouldn't last that long – no matter how much magic she absorbed.

Marayan had no axe to grind. If he got involved in this mess it would be for her sake alone, and Winterbell decided that an ally like that would be worth ten powerful mages with their own agenda. Besides, she was getting sick of that sad, hollow feeling she was starting to get whenever she thought of the younger mage.

There was nothing for it; she would have to talk to him. She would tell the truth, she decided, what there was of it that he didn't already know. She wouldn't make any threats either – she had to admit that she didn't think he'd be cowed by them. In the year she had known him the affable mage had changed into something else; something stronger and more relentless.

Baladas could swat her like a scrib, but Marayan possessed the kind of dogged determination that was all too easy to underestimate. Of all her mistakes, that was one that Winterbell vowed never to make again.

She shook the ash out of her hair and strode across town to the Eight Plates; half hoping Maryan wouldn't be in.


	35. A Pet Rat

Morrowind belongs to Bethesda. Oblivion appears to be approaching readiness far sooner than I'd expected…I can't afford a new computer, dammit! EDIT: This chapter has been doing weird things in the editor - I _think_ it's fixed, but let me know if it gets messed up again. -D

* * *

As it turned out, Marayan was in. 

When he answered his door and saw her standing there his look of surprise was quickly replaced by a scowl. "What do you want?"  
"To talk." Winterbell kept her voice calm and even.  
"I don't think-"  
"Siddown!" she barked, echoing his entreaty of a few days ago.  
He looked at her for a moment then relented with a nod of his head, "All right, let me put a shirt on then."

The room was relatively small but well furnished, and Winterbell took a seat at a desk covered in quills and bits of parchment. Marayan still looekd rather sullen, and contented himself with leaning against the wall,  
"This better be good."

"Don't make this more difficult than it already is. I have been...a bit on edge, lately, and I can't afford to make any more mistakes." "Well, at least you admit you can make them." "Do you want to hear this or not?"  
"I'm listening."

And so Winterbell told her story, from the day she arrived at Seyda Neen to their argument in the tomb. Marayan said not a word during the recital and his eyes never left her face. Eventually Winterbell finished her tale and the pair was silent for a moment.  
"I believe you, Winterbell," Marayan said at last, "because no one in their right mind would make up a story like that one."  
Winterbell sighed, "It's the 'accidentally joining' Telvanni, isn't it?"  
"No, it's the way you've gotten away with everything. Although I have to say I'm grateful for the insight into Telvanni. They can't be as exclusive, or as intelligent, as they seem if they let _you_ in."  
"Why thank you."  
"Now I want to know one more thing, why are you telling me this?"

Winterbell took a deep breath, "Because I need your help. Because ever since Ajira ordered me to play tricks on Galbedir I have been used by everyone… except by you. Don't get me wrong, I went in with my eyes open, and I've done my share of using. But I can't…trust anyone."  
"And you can trust me? I don't think you know how betrayed I felt, Winterbell."  
"No, I probably don't. I apologise, if that's what you want."  
"Look, you tell me your offer, and I'll tell you what I think about it."

"All right then. You know what I said about Aryon."  
"That he wants to use you to get rid of Gotheren."  
"_And_ become Archmagister."  
"That I find a little more difficult to believe."  
"Have a little faith, please."  
"Wait – you're actually going to go along with this Baladas? Become head of both? You won't last a week!"  
"Maybe I won't have to. Look, I have a plan-"  
"Tell me this; if you succeed will we have a Telvanni running the Guild or a Guildmember running Telvanni?"  
"Neither," Winterbell gave a bitter little smile, "you'll have me."

Marayan folded his arms and regarded her critically, "I see," he said finally.  
"Is that it?"  
"What do you want me to say? Winterbell, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I do appreciate the help you've given me, and I don't believe that it was all for your own ends, but I can't just trust you again. No matter what impressions you've received from Telvanni over this past year or whatever you don't know them like I do. I was raised here; I heard the House debates and my father's dissection of them. I know what they're like."  
"But I'm not Telvanni, am I? I'm not anything – just a troublemaker."  
"I know, and that means you have no defense against them. They're using you, and at some point you're not going to be useful anymore. I just wonder if you can handle what comes after that."  
"Which is why I need your help."

Marayan shook his head and took a seat on the edge of the bed, "All right, prove it."  
"Prove what?"  
"That I can trust you."  
"All right then, sounds reasonable," Winterbell nodded to herself, "At the Grand Council Meeting, in just a few days time, the Mage's Guild Monopoly will be consigned to history."  
"What!" Marayan jumped to his feet.  
"Not good enough for you?"  
"No…I mean…when did this happen?"  
"I can't tell you that, I'm not a Councillor, yet. All I know was that we had some Hlaalu agreeing to vote for us and that we needed to convince the Redorans."  
"And this is supposed to convince me you're on our side?"  
"I am not on your side." Winterbell explained icily, "I am on my side. I am neither Telvanni nor Guild and to be honest I'm getting rather sick of both of them."  
"Oh this is really going to upset people." Marayan rubbed his forehead absently.  
"I never claimed I wasn't going to upset people. Calm down and listen to me, this is not the disaster it appears, this is a good thing. For everyone."  
"You've got some convincing to do."  
"I know," Winterbell grinned.  
"Well, go on."  
"Wait until it's actually gone through the Council. There's always a chance people will change their minds."  
"You've got a funny way of making people trust you."  
"Is it working?"  
"Against my better judgement. You've done some pretty low things to get where you are, Winterbell."  
"I know."

"Do you really think you can do this?"  
"Let me tell you something interesting, as far as I know there are at least four members of the Guild who are also Telvanni."  
"_Four_?" Marayan's jaw dropped.  
"They're not so different. Do you know someone called Fast Eddie?"  
"He's an exiled Telvanni," Marayan replied promptly, "Lives down by the river. He is a member of the Guild though, keeps to himself mostly - I can't believe I'd forgotten about him. I heard he would have done better in the Thieves' Guild."  
"I know. He's the one who warned me about the little plot during the Festival."  
"Why?"  
"I gather he wants back into the Telvanni good books. And considering how Telvanni feel about people who've spent any time West of Red Mountain…I was probably his best and only hope."  
"Are you going to help him?"  
"In a sense. If he helps me," she replied thoughtfully. "I will need a Mouth when I get promoted to the council."  
"Is this part of your 'plan'?"  
"No, my plan is for after I've made it to the top: I leave."  
"Leave? Just like that?"  
"Well, no. It will involve a little more planning than that. But getting out is the gist of it."  
"Where are you going to go?"  
Winterbell shrugged.  
"You're going to leave a huge mess behind you," he said rather resentfully.  
"Well, I will try to reduce said mess. I'd rather not have a wizardly mob after me, after all."

Marayan tapped a fingernail thoughtfully against his teeth. Winterbell wasn't really watching him anymore; she was making plans and discarding them while staring blankly at the desk beside her.  
"If," he broke into her thoughts, "you can make the end of the monopoly 'good for everyone' I'll help you. I think."  
"I suppose that's the best I'm going to get. Thanks."  
"Don't thank me yet."

Winterbell got up to leave, "So, how's the family?"  
"We will be having a council meeting of our own at the end of the week." The strain was evident in his voice, "And we'll see what happens. At least I will be able to see Ilmeni again. I gather she's going stir-crazy in Ebonheart, at least, that's the tone of the letters I receive."  
"Good luck then."  
"I have the feeling we'll need it."

Winterbell walked home, feeling much better than she had in days. Even though it was late she spent some time writing down lists of names and drawing arrows between them; a network of allies and enemies to play off against each other.

Winterbell glanced out her window across the Odai River. Fast Eddie's house was directly opposite hers, on the other side of the water. His light was on. Winterbell was planning on spending the last few days before the Council Meeting in Tel Vos, and so she decided it would be better to talk to the disgraced Telvanni sooner rather than later.

Once again she crossed the river, nodding automatically at the guard on night duty. The guards knew who she was, and considered her a vaguely suspicious person – one worth keeping an eye on, but not worth bothering.

Winterbell knocked sharply on Eddie's door. She could practically sense the person on the other side trying to work out whether or not they should pretend they weren't home. She knocked again, more impatiently.

Evetually Eddie opened the door. "It's you!" He seemed genuinely shocked to see her.  
"Who were you expecting? No, wait, I really don't want to know." Winterbell stepped into the house without waiting for an invitation.  
"What do you want?" Eddie asked nervously.

"I'll keep this brief, as I'm sure you're…busy," Winterbell said as she glanced around at the cheap items that haphazardly furnished Eddie's home. "I think we have rather a lot in common, don't you?" Winterbell asked with a predatory smile.  
"The Guild and Telvanni thing, yes." He spoke quickly, making no secret of the fact that he wanted her out of his room as soon as possible, "I just want to go back, there's nothing for me here."  
"You can't go back, Eddie. Things aren't the way they used to be, but there is still a new way, _my_ way."  
"Your way doesn't sound-"  
"How would you like to be a Mouth, Eddie?"  
"Oh," he said quietly.  
"You can stay in Sadrith Mora, at the Gateway if you like. Money isn't really an object."  
"It…it's not?" Winterbell watched his fear recede in the face of a wave of pure greed. "But…they won't let me back."  
"You leave them to me; I'll take care of it. So, do we have a deal?"  
"Wait, what do I have to do for all of this?"  
"Exactly as I tell you, but don't worry, it is in my interests to keep you in one piece."  
"And if I refuse?"  
Winterbell shrugged, "It's your choice. I'll find someone else and you can stay here. For the rest of your life. I have no time for people with no ambition. Remember, you were the one who first approached me."

Eddie looked around his room, torn. "You- you have to understand," he sounded almost pleading, "I'm not much of a mage."  
"I'm aware of that, which is why I'm not going to ask you to do anything I don't know you're already good at."  
"Like what?"  
Winterbell's smile showed a lot of teeth. "I'm glad you asked."  
"Suddenly, I'm not."  
"I'll start you off with something easy. I want Gadar's home address."  
"Gadar? He's…in Vivec, isn't he?"  
"He's also a Telvanni spy. Don't talk to him; just tell me where he lives. Oh, and while you're in Vivec, try and get a hold of a complete list of guildmembers. Trebonius must have one somewhere."  
"You…you're kidding, right? I mean, Trebonius is a powerful mage-."  
"He's also an idiot. If you can't talk you way of a confrontation with him then I really don't think you're worthy to be a Mouth either."  
"I…I'll need some money," he said finally. Winterbell nodded and removed a pouch from her robe and tossed it onto the table. It landed with a dull, heavy, and reassuringly _fiscal_ sound. Eddie quickly opened the bag, just in case.

With the pouch carefully stowed at his belt Eddie turned to Winterbell,  
"How come they didn't throw you out, when they found you were in the Guild?"  
"Because I had a talent that you, Eddie, are going to pick up just as fast as possible. I was _useful_. Just as you are going to be useful. I will be in Tel Vos for the next little while, and I expect the results of your labours to be under my door by the time I return."  
"What do I call you?" He asked, as Winterbell turned to leave, "Spellwright? Wizard?"  
"You will refer to me, at all times, as your Master. Because that is what I am, little rat. Everything you accomplish will be because of, and for, me. And if you do well, I will let you forget it."  
"Yes, my master."  
"One more thing," Winterbell looked back, "Try and find out who Baladas's contact in the Guild is. That is something I would be most interested to learn."  
"I understand."


	36. Family Business

(Insert mandatory whining about being sick here). Morrowind belongs to Bethesda. -D

* * *

Marayan didn't see Winterbell for the rest of the week, and he did his best not to think about her; he was preparing himself for the meeting with his brothers.

Few happy memories were associated with Ebonheart. Marayan spent most of his early years on the plantation and for two seasons he went to an exclusive school in Mournhold. Trips to Ebonheart were only made for official functions, and for discipline, should the elder Dren consider his sons required it. Orvas was always being summoned, and when Marayan was nineteen he came in for his share of unhappy trips across the Ascadian Isles.

Since that time he had done his best to avoid the towering stone walls and weathered crenellations of the Eboneart castle. Marayan thought no evil of the Imperials, but he found their architecture cold and uncomfortable. At least this year his visit would be made in spring.

Estirdalin was quite sympathetic, and gave him more time off; Marayan got the impression she felt vaguely guilty about the incident at the festival, but couldn't work out why. He had a brief chat with Ajira, and an even briefer one with Sharn, who merely said,  
"What, not you as well?"

And so, the evening before the Great Council Meeting Marayan found himself stepping off the boat from Vivec onto Ebonheart's crowded dock. He picked up his bag and began to weave his way through the crates of merchandise awaiting transportation when he heard his name being called.

He turned and gave a genuine smile, "Ilmeni!" His niece scampered up and embraced him enthusiastically.  
"You're a sight for sore eyes," she said.  
"That bad huh?"  
"It's not _quite_ as bad as I thought it would be. I spend most of my time at the Argonian mission." She smiled secretively.  
"I've heard good things about them," Marayan replied, carefully keeping his face blank.  
"I'm sure Father would be casting about for a suitable husband for me if he wasn't so preoccupied with this feud with Orvas."  
"Weren't you going out with one of those Buoyant Armigers?"  
Ilmeni shrugged, "It didn't work out." Marayan questioned her no further on the subject.

"Is Orvas here yet?"  
"Got here just before lunchtime."  
"Any fights broken out?"  
"Not yet. I think they're both too busy with Council stuff. But the family meeting will be held tomorrow night, after Council business is concluded for the day."  
"Family meeting?"  
"Well, _I'm_ not invited," Ilmeni said with a trace of bitterness, "Presumably children aren't supposed to stay up that late. But don't worry," she turned and grinned at him, "I'll do my best to listen at the door."  
"Then I'll do my best to make myself heard. Assuming they'll let me," he added under his breath.

Marayan was greeted formally by the Duke when he arrived at the castle proper. Since the meeting was in public their conversation did not extend beyond meaningless pleasantries. Marayan was keen to ask if Winterbell had been right about the Mage's Guild Monopoly, but kept his mouth shut.

A quick glance at the agenda for the meeting did indeed reveal it was up for discussion, but since House Telvanni put in on the agenda every year it told him nothing.

The next morning saw the councilors and their representatives filing in to the meeting hall. Since Marayan was merely an associate of Hlaalu he wasn't allowed inside, and instead contented himself with eyeing off the Telvanni contingent and wondering how many of them knew Winterbell. He knew she was a Mouth and since she was absent from the meeting he surmised that Master Aryon, who showed up with an appropriately impressive entourage, was her patron.

Ilmeni eventually joined him, and they whiled away the hours playing Conquest, a traditional strategy game of Vvardenfell. Orvas talked to them briefly around lunchtime, all but ignoring Ilmeni. The crime boss seemed to be trying to gauge which side of the family division Marayan was on, but the mage kept his answers brief and noncommittal. After he left Ilmeni glared after him and then turned to Marayan,  
"Will you play as Redoran or something? I'm sick of watching Telvanni take over the island."  
"You and me both," Marayan said wryly, "Let's get some lunch instead."

That evening saw the three brothers ensconced in the Duke's private dining room. Dinner had been a rather tense affair, and after the dishes had been cleared away Ilmeni left the room at the nod of her father and with a significant glance at Marayan.

Orvas wasted no time in commencing hostilities.  
"I see you've finally instilled some sense into that girl."  
"She was forced here because you were threatening her life!" Marayan butted in before the Duke could reply.  
"Marayan's right Orvas, you took things too far that time. Now I agree, she needed reining in, but I'm her father and it's my responsibility."  
"And it's the duty of the family to pick up any slack in fulfilling those obligations." Orvas grinned, gold glinting among his teeth.  
"Are you implying I don't know how to raise my own daughter, brother?"  
"All I'm saying is that she was endangering herself, and someone had to do something."  
"The only danger she was in," Marayans fingers curled around the edge of the carved wood table, "was from _your_ thugs."  
"Marayn, please," Vedam held up his hand, "I appreciate your support, but you don't know the full story."  
"And I suppose you do," he replied flatly, not missing the glance his brothers exchanged.  
"I can hardly see," Orvas addressed Marayn for the first time, "how you could know anything about the internal affairs of the Cammona Tong."

Marayan frowned; did Orvas know about the rescue of his niece or not? "Well, someone must think I know something," he said carefully, "considering what happened at the festival."  
"I heard about that," Vedam glanced over at Orvas, "and I would like an explanation."  
"I thought it was funny," Orvas shrugged, "My little brother thinking himself a fighter. I was just gonna scare him. That Orc must have been crazy." Orvas did look genuinely puzzled about the whole thing. "Still, all's well that ends well; you won. Even though you didn't exactly follow the rules," he added.  
"In a fight like that there are no rules," Marayan replied with a smile that was approaching a sneer.  
"Huh, some of that training must have rubbed off after all."

Vedam watched the exchange with interest, and then put his hand up to bring it to a halt.  
"It's obvious that it's been a rather strange year. I don't intend to spend the rest of the night dissecting it; I will just say that the Tong needs to be reined in, Orvas. I will not accept any arguments on this point."  
"Of course, my Duke. The Tong are good citizens of Vvardenfell and will obey your command."  
Marayan suppressed a snort of disbelief.

Orvas and Vedam began a discussion about voting on the council that Marayan wasn't particularly interested in. It appeared that the Duke was getting a little worried about the number of Hlaalu councilors that voted with Orvas on every decision. Orvas argued that this was merely because is policies were popular.  
"And just what exactly are your policies, brother?" Vedam asked, and Marayan started paying attention again.  
"You know my policies, Vedam. I want what's best for the people of Vvardenfell, not what's best for the Empire."  
"The Empire is what's best for the people of Vvardenfell. I don't know if you've looked around lately, but this island of ours isn't in the best shape. Redoran is in decay, Telvanni seems to be gearing up for an expansionist push and Dagoth Ur has been tormenting the interior towns."  
"Perhaps if all our wealth wasn't being siphoned off into Imperial coffers we might stand a chance. What do we get in exchange for our ebony and gems? Imperial troops who do little else but collect our taxes and flirt with our women! Where's your sense of pride as a Dunmer? Of tradition?"  
"And that's where you lose me, Orvas," Marayan interrupted quietly. "I know what your sense of tradition entails; servitude of all Dunmer except those of good breeding, slavery-"  
"Slavery is legal, Marayan," Orvas reminded him.  
"It might be legal but it's immoral. These are _people_ Orvas, not trade goods, not animals, people."  
"Our economy is-"  
"Our ecomomy is changing. You could kill every last Imperial on the island, but they will still be here – people will still dream of owning their own farm, or shop, and not being indebted to the local nobles. You can't go back."  
"Thank you, Marayan, well put." The Duke nodded approvingly.  
"I want to know when you suddenly became such an expert in what the people want. Both of you, you have no idea what the people think, you don't live with them, you don't work with them."  
"Neither do you, you just order them around."  
"That's enough Marayan," Vedam held up his hand, "Your input is appreciated, but as mage you can't expect to know everything. Orvas, I understand your position, and know that I have fought long and hard to win the Dunmer the freedoms they now enjoy under the Empire, and I shall continue-"  
"What freedoms? You're just happy you got some fancy title!"  
"_We_ have the title, Orvas, our family. Or have your forgotten?"  
"Oh yes, our vaunted family, and our father's great dream of a dynasty. Look around you, Vedam, this is it. I know you're not going to leave the title to me, or Marayan; you'd better get busy this spring, because I don't see Ilmeni exactly falling into line with your grand plans either."  
"Leave Ilmeni out of this!"  
"Yes," Marayan said bitterly, "Leave her out of this. Leave me out of this. It's not as if we count. We're here to follow orders, and if we don't we're excluded, hell, we're excluded anyway. You two fight like children! You pull out fancy arguments and grand ideals but your both just bitter because you aren't Father!" he spat.

His two brothers looked at him, stunned for a moment by the outburst into silence.

"Look at you. You never got away, you spent your entire lives doing just what he wanted, and he's been ash for twenty years! You'll never be him. The world will never be the way you want it to be, for either of you. All you do is hurt people, hurt your own flesh and blood to try and…and do the impossible, do something that doesn't matter, because he's _dead! Get over it!_" He finished with a yell, his gaze furious and electric.

"Marayan, I didn't-" Vedam started to say something but was interrupted by Orvas's laugh.  
"Lovely," he said, still laughing, "I had no idea you had it in you." Marayn did not look amused. "You know what your problem is?"  
"I'm sure you'll tell me." Now that his outburst was over, Marayan just looked resigned.  
"You've been spending too much time with that Telvanni girlfriend of yours."  
"Girlfriend?" Vedam looked quickly at the youngest brother.  
"She's not my girlfriend."  
"_Telvanni_?"  
"Oh yes, Vedam, she's the Mouth for our current Telvanni guest I believe."  
"I don't believe this." Marayan threw up his hands.  
"Oh, I've met her," the Duke said thoughtfully.  
"You have?" Marayan asked curiously.  
"She wanted permission to build one of those tree houses. Very polite, for a Telvanni. I knew she was Guild, but I didn't know you were _that_ close."  
"We're not."  
"Did you give her permission?" Orvas was now talking quite politely to his elder brother.  
"Well of course I did. If a Telvanni asks permission you give it to them. If you don't they'll just go ahead anyway. I still don't know if this is _wise_, Marayan."  
"You want to ignore what I have to say? Fine. Tear each other apart for all I care, but you are _not_," he raised his hand, "dragging Vvardnefell down with you. Goodnight!" His robe swished behind him and he stalked out.

"Uncle Marayan, you were amazing!" Ilmeni was waiting for him when he came out, her eyes shining.  
Marayan gave an embarrassed grin, "Yeah, well, I don't think I did much good. They're not going to talk to me at all now."

The pair made their way outside and Ilmeni perched on the edge of the stone parapet and looked out over the moonlit countryside. The guards recognized them and left them to talk in peace.  
"What do we do now?" Marayan asked morosely.  
"Uncle, you remember what I said about something bad at the plantation?"  
Marayan nodded for her to continue.  
"We got a lead. There's an Argonian slave there with information, but he's not going to say anything until we get him out of there."  
"And?"  
"And no one wants to go. The last time we tried to get slaves from the Dren plantation there were…casualties. The place is a fortress."  
Marayan gave a defiant smile, "Then we need help."  
"You're going to help me?"  
"I really think that things might be shaken up a bit soon. And the help I was thinking of is going to be rather busy."  
Ilmeni gave a delighted grin and threw her arms around her uncle.  
"Be careful, I don't want you to fall."

"Did you know?" Ilmeni hopped along the crenellations as Marayan walked beside her, a levitation spell ready in case she fell.  
"About Winterbell? Only recently. I figure she owes me one. I still don't know if I should trust her though."  
"But you do."  
"Yeah."


	37. The Mad Command

Passive-aggressive flames neither impress nor upset me. Moving on, Morrowind is owned by Bethesda. Anyone know of any Morrowind-based RPG's out there? Or will I have to make my own? -D

* * *

Winterbell timed her arrival back in Balmora to coincide with news of the Telvanni success in getting the Mage's Guild Monopoly overturned. Aryon had been frankly skeptical as to her ability to ride this one out, but didn't see the need to order her from the Guild. At least, not yet.

Winterbell had also talked her patron into supporting her plan to install Fast Eddie as her Mouth. He had suggested that she select someone more traditionally Telvanni, but Winterbell had countered with the fact that no one else was willing to take on what looked like a rather precarious position. Aryon had nodded and said he would start looking for yet _another_ replacement Mouth.

Winterbell stepped of the Guild transport platform to a scene that was amusingly familiar for the Balmora Guildhall. Complete chaos.

Marayan was watching quietly from the doorway, his arms folded across his chest.  
"Have you said anything?" Winterbell asked him.  
"No. I think this is enough of a test as it is."

Estirdalin was pouring over the official document, as if there was some catch in the wording, but the document was as clear as the Telvanni diplomats could make it. Vvardenfell Civil Edict number 4771 was now null and void; and with that the monopoly ceased to exist.  
"If Tebonius had just-"  
"How are we going to maintain alchemical standards?"  
"I can't believe the other Houses didn't-"  
People talked over each other, passing around the offending piece of parchment like it was a dead rat.  
"Let's hear Winterbell's take on it," Sharn said nastily as she passed Winterbell the edict.

Winterbell smiled at the Orc, grateful for the opportunity to speak without having to shout.  
"I think you're all overreacting," she said mildly.  
"What?"  
"Winterbell, you might be an outlander-"  
"I _know_ what this means!" Winterbell raised her voice and the hubbub quietened. "So before you all start panicking, think this through."  
"Think what though?" Ajira asked.  
"The fact that this isn't the end of the world. Imagine the worst; imagine Telvanni opening shop here, so what? Who in their right mind west of Red Mountain would buy from a Telvanni?"  
"They could lower their prices," Sharn reposted aggressively.  
"Redoran and Hlaalu will react as nicely to them as Telvanni does to Wolverine Hall. They'd be taxed into the ground; they'd have big transport overheads and would be about as popular as a kagouti on a guar farm."  
"Well, it is a bit _unlikely_ that they'd come here," Galbedir began.  
Winterbell cut her off, "There's more at stake here than paranoia about Telvanni. As far as I'm concerned the monopoly was a bad idea from the start."

"It allowed us to keep up standards," Marayan entered the conversation for the first time, the mage still standing unmoving in the doorway.  
"Did it?" Winterbell asked. "Let me explain, we set the standard, yes. And we will continue to set the standard, but you're deluding yourself if you think that the Monopoly kept the populace safe from substandard practices and quacks."  
"Balmora is a prosperous town," Winterbell explained, carefully maintaining eye contact with her audience, "but even here there are those who cannot, for one reason or another, afford our services. And for them there are other places to get those services, there always have been and there always will be."  
"We tried to remove-"  
"And what good did it do?" Winterbell shouted, and Estirdalin flinched. "For forty years, I was one of those people. It certainly wasn't by choice, but the Guilds wouldn't accept me. Not only was I poor, not only did I deal with the skooma addicts, the fallen women, the slaves, but when the local Guildmaster was feeling particularly energetic I went to jail."  
"The Temple-"  
"The Temple heals for free only to convert, and for some twenty-five gold is too much to spare. Have you _lived_ there? Have you seen what it's like?" Winterbell let silence descend briefly before continuing.  
"Unless you throw open your doors and offer services free, to everyone, these people will always exist. Removing the monopoly has just made their lives a little easier."  
"It's not our job to make people's lives easier," Sharn wasn't going to let Winterbell off lightly. Ajira looked like she was going to say something when Winterbell held up her hand; enough guilt, it was time to work on pride.  
"Do any of you have any confidence in your own abilities?" There were indignant exclamations at that remark and Winterbell waited for them to subside before continuing.  
"Then why should anything change? We off the best training and services for a reasonable price and I assume we all have plans to continue to do so. We are respected and trusted, and yet are none of you brave enough to stand on your own merits as mages? Must we lean on the monopoly to support us? The monopoly was put in place on the mainland during a time when wars between various guilds threatened public peace. It was the last resort of a desperate government trying to make the streets safe by backing the biggest guilds. We don't need it. We're better off without it." There were murmurs of agreement at her remarks, and even Marayan was nodding; he knew Winterbell well enough to know she meant what she said.

"Ranis," Winterbell drew attention back to herself at the mention of that name, "represented the kind of Guild that I don't want to belong to. She ordered me to stop these unsanctioned trainers and healers, even if it meant killing them. I didn't, I couldn't, and we had no right. Until we live in a perfect world we will have to make do with an imperfect system. This system is imperfect, but now it's a damn sight fairer."  
Estirldalin sighed, "Well, I can't argue with that, Winterbell. Even so, this is going to be a testing time for the Guild. We're going to need discipline and leadership."  
"Leadership?" Galbedir rolled her eyes, "Good luck with that."  
Winterbell grinned, "I'm working on that one." She swept into the next room as the noise rose again, this time speculative and hopeful. Marayan followed more sedately.

"Well?" Winterbell rested her arm on the top of Ajira's desk.  
"If you'd been trained, you would have made a formidable diplomat." He glanced into the next room, "You may have convinced them for now, but this battle isn't over, and there are still the other Guildhalls."  
"I know. But I want to know what you think."  
"I still think you're mad. But sincere, I guess."  
"Friends again?" Winterbell held out her hand.  
"Yeah, friends." He shook her hand, "Did you really go to jail?"  
"I was in jail when they shipped me out here. I'm not exactly a voluntary immigrant."  
"How odd."  
"I'm asking around on that one, but the Emperor has yet to arrest me for dereliction of duty. So, how was the great meeting?"  
"Not so great," Marayan gave a wincing smile, "I don't think my brothers like you much."  
"I'm heartbroken. Anything else?"  
"They're not going to listen to me, no matter what I say. So, Ilmeni and I have decided to join forces and do…something."  
"Sounds well planned."  
"We need your help."  
"Okay," Winterbell nodded.  
"Not here. We'll discuss it when Ilmeni arrives; she's going to sneak away as soon as she can."  
"Fair enough, I've got some things to organise anyway."

Marayan leaned towards her conspiratorially, "Are you really going to get a tree house?"  
"A wha?" Winterbell looked at him blankly.  
"A Telvanni house," he explained.  
"They're not trees," Winterbell explained, mock-affronted, "They're mushrooms, magical mushrooms."  
"And that sounds so much more impressive," Marayan said with gentle sarcasm.  
"They _are_," she protested, trying to keep a straight face.  
"Who died and made you two Sweetness and Light?" Ajira interrupted them, not looking entirely happy.  
"We were just…" Marayan trailed off.  
"Are you all right, Ajira?" Winterbell asked.  
Ajira turned to Marayan, "Are you okay with this?" she asked angrily, her hands on her hips.  
"Well I…as okay as I'm going to be, yeah. She has done nothing to harm the Guild."  
"Even this monopoly thing?"  
"I'll make it work, Ajira," Winterbell broke in.  
"You'd better, that's all."

Despite her reasonable attempt at sounding unrehearsed, Winterbell had a pocket full of notes detailing her arguments against the monopoly. She had plans for those notes, assuming Eddie had come through.

When Winterbell opened the door to her house she had to jam it open over a sheaf of parchment. Eddie had done his homework. Gadar apparently had a small flat in the St. Delyn canton and Winterbell carefully noted the address in her journal. She barely glanced at the Guild membership list, just taking long enough to make sure it was mostly complete.

Eddie's final submission was a brief handwritten summation of various people who _could_ be reporting to Baladas. Winterbell was unsurprised that he hadn't gotten much further, and she hoped that the wizard himself hadn't gotten wind of her investigations. Winterbell knew the odds were he had more than one contact, but one was all she needed.

Winterbell wasn't too happy about getting involved in Marayan and Ilmeni's plans, whatever they may be. Their previous adventures had proved that they were both brave and determined, but not very organised. Still, she didn't want to alienate the closest thing she had to a genuine ally.

Winterbell went to Vivec. After all but saying outright that she was going to challenge Trebonius the other mages were rather circumspect around her. Even Masaline regarded her curiously.

The Vivec guildhall was busy as usual, but a large number of the people hurrying about and frowning were not patrons but mages. Winterbell didn't recognise many of them, and assumed that they were those who lived out of the towns and had enough spare gold to come in and complain. And complain they had, for Trebonius's desk was covered in letters and petitions. Winterbell shook her head; there was nothing Trebonius could do now, even if he had suddenly regained his mental powers.

As she had expected, Gadar was conspicuously absent, which suited Winterbell well. Presumably he was waiting for the worst to blow over before whispering his Telvanni masters' words in Trebonius's ear.

"Winterbell!" She turned at the sound of Trebonius's voice and plastered on a polite smile. "Have you heard the news?"  
"Yes, Archmage."  
"Right, well. I want you to do something about it."  
"Archmage, I don't really think-"  
"You've got quite a reputation for getting things done, Winterbell. So I'm charging you with your most important assignment yet. I want you to kill all the Telvanni."  
Winterbell was momentarily rendered speechless. And judging by the sudden hush everyone else was as well.  
"All of them?" Winterbell asked cautiously, after she regained her composure.  
"Every last one. I'm counting on you, Wizard."  
Winterbell did her level best to keep a straight face, "I'll get right on it," she said, wondering what Trebonius's reaction would be if she committed suicide in front of him.

Winterbell made her escape as fast as she was able, merely shaking her head at any enquires. After this latest crazy order, surely the other Guild captains would ignore Trebonius's madness no longer. Which was pushing things a little faster than Winterbell would have liked, but she wasn't about to scorn this piece of good luck.

She went to see Gadar.

Gadar reacted much the same way as Eddie had to his uninvited guest, but knew better to slam the door in her face. He sullenly let her in to his tiny flat, crowded with books and bottles.  
"I don't suppose you're bringing good news," he remarked sullenly.  
"You never know, I may surprise you," Winterbell replied lightly. "What are your orders regarding the monopoly?"  
"I'm to make sure the Guild rolls over without a fuss, spread a bit of paranoia, that kind of thing. Calm Trebonius down, when he's coherent again."  
"I think you'll find he's quite coherent at the moment."  
"Why, what's he done?" Gadar asked warily as he looked at Winterbell quickly.  
"He's ordered me to kill every last Telvanni in retaliation." Gadar blanched and nervously took a step back. Winterbell raised an eyebrow, "I'm not going to obey him, obviously."  
"So, what do you want from me?"  
"Well, I'm all in favour of the plan to calm down Trebonius, so you may as well do that. And in return," Winterbell smiled, "I'm going to do something for you. A gift, if you will."  
"Wha- what are you going to do?"  
Winterbell pulled a sheaf of parchment from her pocket. "I'm going to make you _popular_."


	38. Smash and Grab

So I'm sure you all couldn't care less as to where I've been. Anyway, I've been writing an insane amount of original stuff and the pace has only slackened slightly. As much as I love reviews, the possibily of actual money is more attractive. Because Morrowind belongs to Bethesda, not me, so I make no money from this. I have another deadline to meet soonish, so I don't know when I'll be updating again. Yes, I feel guilty about this. -D

* * *

Winterbell left Gadar looking like he'd been forced to swallow a muckspunge. It had taken a promise to protect him from both sides and enough gold to sink a gondola before he'd relented and had started reading her notes. Winterbell had also provided the reluctant spy with some bug musk, on the condition that he was never to wear it anywhere near her.

And that was as much as Winterbell could do. The rest would be up to Gadar. Winterbell visited Eddie again with yet more gold and a letter for him to deliver. To his horror, the recipient of the letter was a good weeks trek into the Ashlands. Winterbell provided speed potions and promised a bonus for each day early he arrived back.

Back in her house Winterbell counted her gold ruefully. This operation was becoming expensive, and finding buyers for some of the more esoteric objects in her collection wasn't going to be easy.

There was a knock at her door.

Winterbell was unsurprised to find the two youngest members of the Dren family on her doorstep. She invited them in, and allowed Ilmeni to shake her hand enthusiastically. Winterbell made some tea and bade her guests to explain their plan.

Ilmeni explained that there was a slave on the Dren plantation with information about what was really going on at the isolated family home, and the plan was to win him his freedom in exchange for the information.  
"How long ago did he make contact?" Winterbell asked.  
"Nearly two weeks."  
"And you know he's still there, and still alive?"  
"We know he's still there, but we can't say if he's still alive, we haven't asked him to send more messages; it was too risky."  
Winterbell shook her head, "All right, what does he look like? What is his name?"  
"He's an aging Argonian by the name of Hides-His-Foot. He works outside most of the time."  
"I hope you weren't planning to attempt this raid in daylight," Winterbell said sharply.  
"Well, I honestly wasn't sure. We'll have a hard time finding him in the dark – we don't know which slave hut he's in."  
"A daylight raid would be suicide." Marayan spoke for the first time. "I can't keep up an invisibility spell for more than a minute or two, and casting it on possibly four people?"  
"But Winterbell-"  
"I'm not very good at illusion magic," Winterbell confessed. "I think a night raid would be best, but we need a map of the area before we can plan further."  
"Ah, we thought of that," Ilmeni said proudly as she produced a big roll of parchment upon which she'd carefully drawn a map of the entire plantation. Winterbell nodded approvingly and unrolled the map and the three of them bent their heads over it.

Several hours and quite a few pots of tea later they'd hammered out something workable. There were too many variables to plan in the details, and Winterbell saw too many opportunities for things to go wrong, but had made the best of what they had.

The plan was to take place the following night, when the twin moons would be at their dimmest. The plan involved attempting to sneak over the wall, and if that was impossible or if they were discovered Marayan would start a distraction. Winterbell wasn't keen on climbing walls, but they decided her destructive power and Ilmeni's speed and youth would be the best combination for the snatch.

Winterbell had talked seriously to Ilmeni and made her promise that she wouldn't try and stage a mass breakout unless she wanted a distraction. Getting one slave out would be difficult enough; Winterbell flat out refused to take along any more.

Winterbell would spend the next day making potions of levitation, invisibility and speed. Marayan and Ilmeni would procure some armour and a spare weapon for the slave. They would all try and get some sleep. Ilmeni was worried that her father would find out she was missing, and she'd done her best to give herself an alibi. But even the best excuses would last only so long.

The next afternoon the three of them walked to Pelagiad, via back roads. Ilmeni was doing her best not to treat everything as a great adventure, but nevertheless, every few minutes she'd stop to point out something interesting to her uncle, who bore her chatter with good grace.

Winterbell strode along, lost in thought. Ever since the monopoly announcement she'd had the vague impression that she should really be in two places at once, and disappearing into the Ascelon Isles with the Dren family heir was probably not the best move.

When they arrived in Pelagiad Ilmeni lead them to a house, the owner of which was a member of the twin lamps, although her slave-freeing days were behind her. They waited for the sun to set, Ilmeni pacing nervously about the room as Winterbell examined the map again.

"I really appreciate this," Marayan said quietly, "My gut feeling is that there's something bad happening. This isn't just a slave trying to buy his freedom."  
Winterbell glanced at Ilmeni and back at him, "Well, if you're right, you might have to consider how she's going to react. She still has a lot of illusions about the world."  
"If something…drastic has to be done, I'm going to be the one to do it. She's not male, but she stands to inherit – I can't jeopardize that, even if she doesn't think she cares about it now."  
"Hmm." Winterbell looked thoughtful. "Anyway," she continued in a louder tone, "I think it's time. You've both got teleportation spells, don't you?"  
Ilmeni held up her hand, showing off a ring, "It'll recall me back to my bedroom at home."  
"All right then," Marayan got to his feet, "Let's get this over with."

Winterbell was used to traveling at night, but the thought of the Ienith brothers lurking about, possibly invisible, made her jumpier than usual, and having Ilmeni starting at every sound made it worse. It was with a sense of relief that she saw the high stone walls of the Dren plantation rise in front of them.

The three held a whispered conference before Marayan wished them luck and snuck off around the back of the compound, to ready a distraction should it be needed. Winterbell and Ilmeni silently counted off about ten minutes or so before they ventured to look over the wall.

Winterbell's levitation potions were exceptionally strong, and Ilmeni shot up several feet in the air before she got used to them. The pair peered over the wall, keeping a low profile.

The wall had several entranceways, all of them guarded by loyal Dren employees, and Winterbell and Ilmeni watched them for a while, working out their routes. There were several slave huts, as well as storage huts and places for the free workers to stay. The slave huts were in the worst repair, and easy to spot, but Ilmeni whispered that she didn't know which one Hides-His-Foot would be in. Winterbell scowled and scrambled over the top of the wall, floating down to the ground and crouching in the shadows behind one of the huts.

After the guard had passed again Ilmeni followed, looking nervous but determined. Winterbell nodded at one of the slave huts, indicating that they should split up. Ilmeni obediently crept away. Someone in the hut next to Winterbell rolled over in their sleep and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Get a grip, she told herself fiercely, if silently, and pushed open the door.

Inside it reeked. Five slaves of various races were sprawled out on thin straw pallets. Winterbell cast her light amulet, fairly sure that it couldn't be seen from the outside. The slaves were thin and ill-treated, their bodies showing scars from whips and signs of overwork. None of them even woke up when Winterbell shone the light.

Winterbell shrugged, it only made her job that much easier. Holding her breath, she picked her way around the sleeping Kaijits and over to where an Argonian huddled in the corner.

Winterbell shook its shoulder, "Psst! Are you Hides-His-Foot?"  
"What does it want?" The Argonian who blinked up sleepily at Winterbell was obviously female.  
"Nevermind," Winterbell muttered, and got to her feet. The Argonian they wanted wasn't in this hut.  
"Are you with the Twin Lamps?" the slave asked eagerly.  
"No, he just owes me money," Winterbell said automatically. Finally the light on her amulet ran out and the hut was once more dark.  
"Are you here to free us?" The slave raised her voice.  
Winterbell gritted her teeth, "No!" she hissed, and backhanded the slave across the face. The slave recoiled and started whimpering, but Winterbell didn't have time to feel guilty – she'd never owned a slave, but still the old phrases resurfaced in her mind; 'you've got to treat them rough, that's the only thing they understand'.

Winterbell flung open the door and shut it again, glancing about quickly. She nearly cast a frost spell when Ilmeni materialized out of the shadows.  
"I've got him!" she whispered urgently, "but he's injured and can't move fast."  
"Oh brilliant," Winterbell said sarcastically. "Let's get out of here anyway; we haven't needed a distraction yet."

Ilmeni nodded, "I've given him a levitation potion. He said it tasted funny." Winterbell rolled her eyes and shrugged. At that point someone said from inside the hut,  
"The Twin Lamps were here? Why didn't they take us?"  
The guard turned to the source of the noise, his red eyes gleaming in the light of the torch he held. Winterbell swore virulently in whisper and Ilmeni looked a bit taken aback.  
"Get him over the wall," she ordered.  
"But I can't climb," the Argonian looked worried.  
"You took the potion!" Ilmeni grabbed him by his elbow and pulled him upwards, "Come _on_."

The guard was coming closer. They hadn't made enough noise for Marayan, wherever he was, to hear them and the guard had yet to raise the alarm. Winterbell was sure if he checked on the slaves they'd tell him what had happened. They didn't look like they had much spirit left.

"I'll distract him," Winterbell said, "Get the old man _away_ from here. I'll meet you at Sterdecan's farm."  
Ilmeni didn't argue, but she didn't look happy either. She and the slave disappeared over the wall with one last look. Winterbell took a deep breath; she really was _far_ too old for this sort of thing.

Winterbell cast her light amulet again, this time at a guar standing some distance away. The guard gave an involuntary jump of surprise as the spell went streaking past, and the guar began to glow brightly. Brighter than the guard was – he looked at the guar and actually took a couple steps in it's direction before another noise from the slave hut brought him back.  
"Intruders!" he bellowed, and lights came on in a couple of the huts.

Winterbell was running, back along the rows of slave huts, towards the exit. The levitation potion had worn off, and with so many people about, flying just made you an easy target. If that didn't trigger Marayan's distraction, then nothing would, Winterbell reflected as she leant against a storage hut to catch her breath.

People were shouting and running about, and the shouts grew more urgent as Wintebell saw flames licking at one of the storage huts. She grinned and silently applauded Marayan, as she had no doubt as to the cause of the sudden blaze.

The lights in the manor houses were on now, and the front door opened with a bang to reveal one of the Ienith brothers, who took one look at the scene, said something to his invisible sibling, and then vanished himself. Winterbell narrowed her eyes, and hoped that Marayan was well hidden, or preferably getting the hell out of there.

Winterbell hurried for the exit, away from the commotion, trusting Marayan to get himself out. A worker armed with a pick and still half asleep appeared in front of her and she instinctively hurled a frost spell at him and he recoiled. Winterbell didn't slow down.

Gasping and holding a stitch in her side, Winterbell ran out of breath and had to stop among some trees a little way from the plantation. There was still no sign of Marayan, and Winterbell started a wide circle that would hopefully bring her back to the mage.

The blaze appeared to be under control, but the entire plantation had been stirred up like a hornets' nest. Wintebell stayed far enough away so she didn't know if Orvas himself was out of bed.  
"We've made quite a mess," she chuckled to herself.  
"More than you know."  
Winterbell bit back a scream as Marayan materialised beside her. "Bloody hell, I thought you were one of the Ieniths."  
"They're busy," he said darkly, "they're arguing with Orvas over how many slaves will be punished. They already killed one and my brother is annoyed at the loss of property."  
"They're not coming after us?" Winterbell looked back as the pair started to walk to Sterdecan's farm.  
"They don't know where we went. Sterdecan better move fast though, they're going to be searching farms tomorrow."  
"They can do that?"  
"Orvas is the local noble – according to 'tradition' he can do pretty much what he wants."

They were silent until they arrived at Sterdecan's farm, where Ilmeni was waiting anxiously for them.  
"Sterdecan's gone already with the slave," she said. "He'll be at the Ebonheart Mission by morning."  
"Did you ask him about his information?" Winterbell asked.  
Ilmeni rolled her eyes, "Of course I did. He said that Orvas talked about a 'plan' with the Ienith brothers and that it's really bad. Something about…my father. It's written down – the brothers have it."  
"The _brothers_?" Marayan looked horrified, "so we have to go back to the farm and break into the brothers' room?"  
Winterbell scratched her head, "It doesn't really seem possible."  
"Okay," Marayan held up his hand, "Ilmeni, you go home. We can't do anything more tonight – the place is in an uproar. And don't worry, I'll think of something."

When Ilmeni had, rather reluctantly, gone Winterbell turned to Marayan, "What are you going to do?"  
"I'm going to think. Thanks again for your help," he glanced at her, but his mind was elsewhere.  
"You know, I can really only think of one 'bad thing' that could apply to the Duke," Winterbell said pointedly.  
Marayan nodded grimly, "Assassination."


	39. Eulogy For a Poisoned Mage

Winterbell and Marayan returned to Balmora, the former to strategize and the latter to brood. Winterbell was extremely tired, but felt unable to sleep, and instead paced up and down her tiny house, muttering to herself.

It was probably well that she didn't go to bed, for she had been home hardly long enough to make a cup of tea before there was a knock at the door, urgent and quiet, as if the visitor didn't really want to be there.

It was Ajira, and behind her was a woman with bright purple hair.

"Why are you still awake?" Ajira asked, in a surprisingly accusatory tone of voice.  
"I'm thinking," Winterbell said mildly. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up; she could sense news of dark import, like storm clouds on the horizon. She stepped back and allowed her visitors to enter, finally remembering who the purple-haired woman was – the guild guide from Ald'ruhn.

"What's going on?" Winterbell asked, bracing for the next crisis.  
"Edwinna's dead," Ajira said, her face carefully blank, "and it looks like she was poisoned."  
Winterbell dropped into a chair and rested her chin on her hand, her brain complaining about having to fit in and analyze this latest event. "Don't assume," she looked up at Ajira, "that everything that happens in the Mage's Guild happens because of me."

"There's good precedent for it," Ajira retorted.  
The purple-haired woman, Winterbell doubted she'd ever been told her name, looked uncomfortable and eventually spoke up, "What I'd hoped was…could you help find who did this? You've managed so far…" She trailed off and looked like she was going to cry.

"Well, I can't help you right now, I only know as much as you've told me." Winterbell frowned and stood up suddenly. "So, we'll discuss this in the morning." She held out her hands to usher the other two out, although Ajira looked annoyed.  
"I'll stay at the Guild here, if you don't mind, Ajira, I don't want to go back there. The guards are still looking about anyway."  
"Of course, dear, make yourself at home." Ajira smiled then turned back to Winterbell and hissed, "You don't look like you've been sitting and thinking all evening." She looked up and down at Winterbell's travel-worn robe.  
"I find having to make constant efforts to keep your trust exhausting, Ajira. I know it's late and the news was a shock, so I'll excuse you this time. But really, you of all people should know the array of subtle alchemical effects I'm capable of – why would I be so crude as to _poison_ her?" And with that parting shot Winterbell closed the door.

"It didn't have anything to do with me. It _didn't._" Winterbell wondered why she had such a hard time convincing herself. She had to admit, once the initial shock had worn off, she couldn't help but be rather relieved. Of all the Guild Captains, Edwinna was the one who disliked Winterbell the most, and certainly wouldn't have approved of her as Telvanni. And now, well, it looked like there was a Captaincy up for grabs. Winterbell eventually gave up, and went to bed to grab a few hours sleep.  
"Now if only someone would poison Nelos my day would be made," she muttered.

* * *

Later that morning Winterbell dragged herself out of bed to face routine questioning from the Guild investigators. The Redoran Guards were also investigating, but were confining their efforts to Ald'ruhn for now.  
"Ajira says you weren't asleep or in bed when she visited you in the early hours of this morning."  
"That's correct," Winterbell said, paying more attention to Ajira than the Altmer doing the questioning.  
"And where were you last night then?"  
Winterbell flicked a glance over at Marayan, who was trying to shake his head vehemently without actually moving. Coward, she thought. "I was in Gnisis," she said, "visiting a friend."

* * *

"So you dragged my reputation through the dirt to provide you with an alibi?" Baladas was, as always, amused, and was already aware of the poisoning by the time Winterbell arrived midmorning with the news.  
Winterbell just rolled her eyes, "Did you kill her?"  
"No." He leaned back in his chair and replaced a book on the shelf behind him. "I was leaving the Guild half of the equation to you. And honestly, poison? Not my style, really."  
"Nor mine," Winterbell said, "but this is really awfully convenient for me."  
"You're not feeling guilty, are you?"  
"Not really. But I don't trust luck this good. What do you think?"  
"I don't know, but I'll look into it. Absolutely nothing reached me before this happened. I mean, absolutely nothing." He seemed more irritated by the failure of his informants than anything else. "So where were you last night, anyway? Or daren't I ask."  
"Dren plantation," Winterbell said, rather grudgingly.  
Baladas shook his head, "I keep telling you, keep your nose out of that family's business."

"I'm going to try and take Edwinna's place," Winterbell said, firmly changing the subject, "But I can't stay there long. I need to challenge Trebonius as soon as I can."  
"Well, whispers from Cyrodil say that his imperial masters aren't too happy with him. The legend of his madness is spreading."  
Winterbell grinned, "With a little bit of help?"  
"Not just from me, the way I hear it."  
"Well, I need to keep moving," Winterbell stood and yawned widely, "I've got things to do. Let me know if you find out anything about Edwinna, it's important."  
"Winterbell," Baladas followed her downstairs, "you don't have to be so formal. Friends, remember? You didn't actually damage me, you know."  
"I know," Winterbell said softly, "but I've been playing both ends off against the middle for a while now. It's habit forming."  
"What about Marayan?"  
"He's friendly, for now."  
"It _is_ habit forming."  
"It's second nature."  
"Well, you might want to see Aryon. Your tower should be ready, and he's getting impatient."  
"He was next on my list." Winterbell paused in the doorway and frowned, "Hey, as a matter of interest, what do you think would happen if one of the elder Dren brothers kills the other?"  
Baladas started laughing, "Absolutely nothing."

* * *

As Baladas had warned her, Aryon was losing patience.  
"You're more than qualified, and you've organized a Mouth – however unusual a choice. What are we waiting for?"  
"The Guild Captaincy of Ald'ruhn. I want it. And once I get it I'll take my place on the council."  
"You still seriously expect to stay in the Guild? I've been quite patient with this so far-"  
"I," Winterbell interrupted him, much to his surprise, "will get rid of Gothren, as you wanted. But I'm doing it my way. So I want the appointment to be made quietly. No big ceremonies at Sadrith Mora."  
"Tradition is important to House Telvanni."  
"And traditionally, when an Archmagister is for the chop, tradition is politely ignored."  
"I can't argue with that," he conceded. "But an act like that is as good as walking up and slapping him in the face."  
"But nowhere near as satisfying."  
"Winterbell, I don't get two shots at this. If you fail-"  
"If I fail, I'm dead, and there's not much you can do to me then."  
"I wouldn't be so sure," he said quietly. "What I want to know is what you intend to do once you if you succeed. Would you really have us absorb the Mages' Guild?"  
"Of course not, that would be madness." Winterbell smiled. Master Aryon did not look reassured.

"Do you know Trebonius has ordered someone to kill you all?" Winterbell asked.  
"Who?"  
"Me."  
Aryon chuckled, "Well, he obviously picked the right person for the job. You know, I'll almost miss him."  
"His days are numbered," Winterbell agreed. "Master Aryon, I have a question. How often do Telvanni kill each other?"  
"More often than is reassuring and less often than the rest of the world thinks. Why?" Aryon raised an eyebrow, "Planning on killing someone?"  
"Not immediately. But if you would do me a favour, I'd appreciate it if you let me know if anyone gets poisoned."  
"That's not exactly a conventional Telvanni method of assassination."  
"Put it down to healthy paranoia."

* * *

Winterbell returned to Sadrith Mora, to have words with Skink. The Argonian was obviously in mourning, having been on better terms with Edwinna than Winterbell was.  
"She was an amazing researcher, I had such high hopes for what she'd be able to do with your translations, you know. I know she was a bit dismissive, but that's just her nature." He shook his head sadly, "The Guild will miss her."  
Winterbell did her best to be sympathetic for ten minutes, then steered the conversation in a more productive direction.  
"Have you considered taking her place?" Winterbell asked, "You're more than qualified for it."  
"Oh no," Skink said, looking pleased that Winterbell had thought of it anyway, "I like running things in the background here. And besides, the weather here is much nicer – better for my skin. You could do it, you know." He lowered his voice and looked around. "Between you and me, Edwinna and I were talking about the need for change in the Guild. We've been communicating with the Guildmasters in Cyrodil, and we were working up a petition to get rid of Trebonius. The Guild is going through hard times, and although I've heard what Gaydar has been saying about the Monopoly, no one would want him as leader. You, on the other hand…"

"What's Gaydar been saying?" Winterbell enquired innocently.  
"Oh, rather similar things to what you said in Balmora, or so I hear. Morale in Vivec has approved tremendously – Trebonius is pleased, of course, but he doesn't seem to realize that no one is pleased with him. Gaydar's a sniveling little Dunmer, and I don't like him, but no one can deny he's doing the Guild good. Now if even _he_ is showing up Trebonius, change is overdue."  
"Well, I have to agree with you," Winterbell said cautiously, "but I don't know if I'm _that_ popular."  
"You have my support," Skink said firmly, "and probably that of everyone here. Your example has really made a difference. If you can go about the town, so can we, and who cares what the guards say?"  
"Well, I have a slight advantage there," Winterbell admitted, "I've been cultivating certain connections within Telvanni for quite some time."  
"How?" Skink looked disbelieving, "They'll barely talk to us."  
"By making myself useful before they found out I was in the Guild. Don't you understand? Telvanni is all bluff. Not only must they compete against the other houses, but against us as well. They have no allies – so they appreciate anyone willing to talk to them, if you pretend to be intimidated, of course."  
"Are you sure?"  
"I've been studying them for quite some time. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, you see?" Winterbell lowered her voice even further, "Have you any idea how many defect over to the Guild?"  
"They can do that?"  
"It's quite dangerous for them, but I personally know no less than three." Winterbell sat back and let Skink digest the information. She knew that the Argonian, who had lived in a state of semi-siege for years, would desperately hope that her words were true.  
"But they're dangerous," Skink said, frowning.  
"They're dangerous the way a dreugh is dangerous," Winterbell said, proud of her simile, "you have to be very wary when they're in their element, but they're not about to come marching up and invade yours. Anyway, the latest from the Telvanni rumour mill is this; we might not be the only ones with a new leader soon." That'll give him something to think about, Winterbell thought, and with an enigmatic smile she left. She had no doubt that the news would spread, and as far as she was concerned, the sooner everyone moved on from Edwinna's murder – although _assassination_ felt like a more appropriate word – the better.

* * *

"Winterbell, I want to apologise," Ajira said, steering her off the travel platform, "Marayan has explained that you were accounted for last night. Although he was rather reluctant to say what you were doing."  
Winterbell sighed, and pared down another truth to a half-truth, "We were meeting with Ilmeni, but her father didn't know about it. Look, has there been any news?"  
Ajira shook her head, "The Guild investigators came up empty-handed, and the Redoran guards aren't saying anything."  
"And I don't have any Redoran contacts. And my _other _associates didn't have anything either." Ajira accepted her words without comment.  
"It's just one thing after another," Winterbell grumbled, running her finger along the edge of Ajira's alembic, "we have to hold the Guild together. Edwinna, the monopoly, Ranis… I hate to think what's coming next."  
"Are you going to ask for promotion?" Ajira asked.  
"Skink thinks I should, and I'm tempted. What's your opinion?"  
"If Skink doesn't want it, then there's no one else qualified. Unless Marayan's had a complete change of heart, of course." Ajira's tail twitched unhappily, "I'm scared of what is going to happen to the Guild."  
"So am I." 


	40. Setting Up the Board

Ajira was correct; no one really wanted to become Guild Captain of Ald'ruhn. Edwinna had run the place with ruthless efficiency and, in Winterbell's view, had in the process removed any spine her subordinates might have had. Winterbell kept her thoughts to herself, however, and self-effacingly and quietly convinced people she was an appropriate choice as a replacement.

It was during this time that Winterbell visited the curious and quiet Guildhall at Caldera. The town itself was awash with money from the mine, and as a consequence the Guildhall was as well. She supposed they kept such a low profile to prevent the rest of the Guild finding out about it and demanding their share.

They knew of her, of course, and were friendly enough. In fact, they didn't seem to want for anything; safe within the Imperial mining machine, the loss of the Guild Monopoly might have occurred in another province, for all the impact it'd had in Caldera. Winterbell left Caldera with an assurance of support, after promising to implement policy of non-interference, and a strong desire for silver-service tea and biscuits.

So that made it a formality. Skink, Estirdalen, and Trebonius were only too happy to let Winterbell take the Captaincy at Ald'ruhn, and Winterbell's campaigning at Caldera sealed the deal.

Winterbell talked with Gaydar for a while; he seemed almost happy now that, thanks to her, he was almost looked upon favorably by the other mages in Vivec. Winterbell assured him that if Dratha caused him any trouble she would take responsibility. In fact, Dratha had found Gaydar's reports more entertaining than useful, as Trebonius was hardly a master strategist, and was only too happy to turn her spy over to Winterbell, although Winterbell was quite sure she received regular reports on _Winterbell's_ actions. Winterbell talked to Gaydar merely to make sure he was still doing what she said, to give him some more instructions, and to ask one question. It didn't come as a surprise when the answer to the question was Ald'ruhn.

* * *

"The Morang Tong?" Marayan nearly fell out of his chair. As Winterbell had expected, he was in his room at the Eight Plates, writing carefully worded letters to the rest of his family. Winterbell's less-than-innocent enquiry had distracted him from his troubles, at least for a moment.  
"You've heard of them, haven't you?" Winterbell peered out his window at the darkened street below.  
"Of course I have, but why do you want them?"  
"I need some information, and I reckon they'd be the most likely to have it." Winterbell tapped her teeth with a thumbnail and waited for an answer.  
"All right, if that's what you want. My father once told me that their headquarters were under the Arena somewhere. I doubt they've moved since."  
"Are they going to want visitors?"  
"I don't think they kill people on sight. But if you want anything from them they're going to make you pay."  
"I was afraid of that. I don't suppose you'd be interested in buying some Daedric weapons, would you?"  
Marayan chuckled and then looked serious, "You haven't got a short sword, have you? Enchant it, and it's a deal."  
"What do you want it for?"  
"Can't you guess?" he asked with a grim smile.  
Winterbell nodded, "I'll bring it round in an hour or so."

"Winterbell," Marayan got up and looked at her, "you need some sleep. You're going to have to be awake when they make you Captain, you know."  
"I know, and I will, because," she glanced up, "afterwards I'll be going back to get my second staff."  
"And all hell will break loose," Marayan said. "What in the world are you planning?"  
"Only a minor revolution. Will you make sure that as many people as possible are here when the news gets through? I'm only going to say what I'm going to say once."  
"Well, I could talk Skink into it…what about Trebonius?"  
"Trebonius doesn't matter."  
Marayan sank back into his chair, "You're really going to do it aren't you?"  
"Or die trying."  
"Yeah, I know the feeling," Marayan looked at his messy desk and then back up at Winterbell. "Hey, if we both survive- no, never mind. One thing at a time."  
"Right, and the next thing is your sword. Then the Morang Tong. And then, Ald'ruhn."  
"Winterbell, I've been turning what the slave told us over in my mind," Marayan began.  
"And?"  
"I don't see how I can get proof of what Orvas might be planning. I mean, the brothers – it would be impossible. And Vedam isn't going to take me at my word."  
Winterbell paused with her hand on the door and shrugged, "Then find proof afterwards."  
"And if there isn't any?"  
"Find some anyway," she said with a smile.

* * *

Winterbell's visit to the Morang Tong was both interesting and expensive. It didn't thrill her, but her first act as a Guild Captain was going to be going through a lot of paperwork. A hunch was solidifying into certainty.

Winterbell took her wizard's staff with her when she went to Ald'ruhn and enough belongings to at least give the impression she was moving there. A dust storm was howling outside, as usual, as Winterbell was given a tour of the place before the officials from Vivec arrived.

Most of the staff seemed very pleased with their new boss, and Winterbell almost felt bad about getting their hopes up. But she had no intention of spending any more than the bare minimum of time in Ald'ruhn. She paid particular attention to the little school that was run from the Guildhall, and asked lots of questions of the thrilled teacher.

In a similar scene to the one at Balmora a few weeks earlier, Winterbell was promoted to Guild Captain. She signed the forms, and said the right words and to everyone's surprise went to Edwinna's desk and immediately attacked a pile of administrative paperwork with the enthusiasm of a Bosmer in an unattended shop. The Balmora mages had wished her well, but none had accompanied her to Ald'ruhn, which suited Winterbell.

Several hours later Winterbell was interrupted by a travel-weary and rather ash-stained visitor.  
"I got back two days early, see? So I get a bonus," Eddie said, collapsing into a chair opposite Winterbell and sprinkling ash all over the floor.  
"How did you get here? We shouldn't be seen talking – oh, I don't suppose it matters now. Did you get a reply?"  
"Yes," Eddie said, and handed Winterbell a letter.  
Winterbell put the letter aside and told Eddie to go and get something to eat, and maybe have a bath as well. "I may have more work for you," she said with a sadistic smile.

By the time Eddie got back Winterbell had found what she was looking for.  
"Where am I going this time?" Eddie asked, with a depressed kind of fatalism.  
"Mournhold," Winterbell said, shuffling papers.  
"Really?" Eddie looked much more enthusiastic.  
Winterbell just smiled and started explaining what she wanted Eddie to do there. By the time she had finished he was white as a sheet.

Winterbell read the letter Eddie had delivered and nodded to herself – things were coming along satisfactorily. Ranis might have been a stone-cold bitch, but she'd practically handed Winterbell a most convincing supporter on a platter.

Winterbell tried to get in contact with Marayan next, but no one seemed to have a clue where he was. She was rather unhappy about that, but trusted him not to get himself into too much trouble. Instead she went back to Sadrith Mora, to start counting up her supporters.

* * *

As she had expected, everyone except Nelos was happy to express cautious support. In Therena's case it was a weird statement of affection, which Winterbell supposed was good enough. The Mouths were aware of what was happening, but to an outsider it would have looked like business as usual. Gotheren's Mouth was icily polite, and Winterbell was the same, having no interest in swaying him, she turned her attention to Nelos himself.

Later, Aryon would tell her that she had been extremely foolhardy, and Baladas would murmur a comment about pushing her luck, but Winterbell went in and got exactly what she wanted; a blazing row.

Nelos made no secret of the fact that he had disliked Winterbell from the start, and after having to put up with staying in his tower after she first joined the house, the feeling was mutual. Winterbell guessed that Gotheren had reprimanded Nelos for allowing a mage to join the House right under his nose _and_ stay in his tower.

* * *

"It doesn't look like he's going to let himself be convinced," Winterbell said mildly.  
"That's because you marched into his tower and demanded that he give you his vote? I can't imagine what you were thinking," Master Aryon was actually on his feet, and was restraining himself from marching up and down. "All you've done is solidify his position – and you can bet he'll be reporting all of this to Gotheren, and crowing it all over the council. You just walked away, can't you see how bad that looks?"  
"Dreadfully bad," Winterbell said cheerfully.  
"You'd have been better off killing him where he stood. What are you hoping to get out of this?"  
"I want to keep him alive. Because, if I can sway him, after all his public frothing and puffing, then no one is going to try and follow his lead."  
"So you've got a plan?" Aryon calmed down somewhat, "What is it?"  
"I'd rather not say," Winterbell looked at him steadily, "because even you might need some reminding about what I'm capable of."  
Aryon sighed, "You have no subtlety, Winterbell. And I'm not afraid of you in the slightest. Still, if you want to play cat and mouse with Nelos I won't object – he's not the brightest star in the sky, and I have no doubt if you put your mind to it you can beat him. But antics like this aren't doing much for your popularity with everyone else."  
"I was never popular to start off with, it's Gotheren you want out, not me you want in. And I haven't forgotten that, I assure you."  
"So when are you going to take your place on the council? You've got Ald'ruhn."  
"When my Mouth recovers from his last journey, and I have enough funds for his next one. And when someone dies at Nelo's tower."  
"Is that likely?" Aryon asked.  
"It's on the cards." Winterbell smiled, "But he can sit and stew until after I'm Archmage."

* * *

Winterbell went back to Ald'ruhn that evening, and after everyone was gone started crawling around on her hands and knees. After about a quarter of an hour she gave up and hobbled back into a chair.

"There has to be something else here," she muttered. "What if I hadn't become captain…"

Struck by a sudden thought, Winterbell hurried to the guest rooms near the Guild Guide platform and started opening all the drawers. It wasn't until she investigated the chest next to the bed that she found a stack of papers, apparently old administrative rubbish left there and forgotten. But Winterbell was very aware that their existence was no accident, and they had been left there specifically, and recently.

"Well, that solves my money problems," Winterbell muttered.

It would probably be a wise move, Winterbell thought, to practice some enchanting, and she rubbed her neck nervously.


	41. Fighting Words

On the day of her ascension to the Telvanni Council Winterbell visited the inn in Sedya Neen very early in the morning. She handed out rings of recall and instructions, and collected Eddie from the dock, where he had been putting his bags through customs – not to see if he was smuggling, but to make sure that there weren't any animals stowed away in his luggage that might have had blight. Ostensibly no one was supposed to leave the island because of the disease, but Winterbell observed the golden rule and after enough gold had changed hands Eddie had his passage booked.

Winterbell and Eddie traveled to Tel Banora where Master Aryon was waiting. Baladas had sent his formal congratulations via a letter, with a small postscript for Winterbell which merely read: _Redoran says yes (how did you know?)._ Aryon masked his curiosity about it quite well, all things considered.

Eddie was the happiest person there, his eyes were shining and he was practically bursting with pride.

"Mother is going to be _so_ pleased," he confided to Aryon's new mouth, who seemed a little put off by his colleague's Imperial style of dress and talking. Aryon quietly suggested that Eddie wear a robe from now on while he was on the east side of the island.

Winterbell had a headache. After this point there would be no turning back. She hadn't managed to get in contact with Marayan, and she hoped this was because he was busy rounding people up to attend her return to Balmora. Winterbell rubbed her temples and poured herself another cup of tea.

"You don't have to go back, you know," Aryon said coming in and experimentally shaking the tea pot before putting it back down. "It would make things a lot easier on you."  
"I owe it to them. I have to go back. They don't deserve Trebonius." Winterbell sighed and looked into her tea cup. For the first time in a while considering just _why_ she was running herself ragged for this impossible cause. She wished she could talk to Marayan about it.  
"Some would argue they don't deserve you either," Aryon pointed out.  
"Most medicine tastes bad," Winterbell said matter-of-factly. "And I'm about as bitter as they come."  
"I wouldn't say that," Aryon smiled, "you've managed to mellow Baladas."  
"More by luck than judgement. And he gave no indication of enjoying it at the time."  
"Well, let's get on with it. Try not to get yourself killed by the mages this evening."  
"Oh, don't worry, I'm bringing friends."

And so, with little ceremony, Winterbell gave her Staff of Peace to Eddie, Aryon gave another Staff of Peace to his new Mouth, and he also presented Winterbell with a rather battered Staff of War.  
"It gives it more character than if I'd had it repaired." He shrugged at Winterbell's raised eyebrow.

Afterwards Aryon gave Eddie a quill and some paper so he could write to his mother and went to discuss strategy with Winterbell.  
"No one's died at Nelos's tower."  
"I know, it's rather disappointing, but I couldn't wait any longer."  
"Well, you might be interested to know that something happened there a couple nights ago. Unfortunately no one's saying what. Some sort of break-in I gather, but Nelos has hushed it all up. He's blaming you, though. He said you'd bungled an assassination attempt."  
"That's the best outcome I could have expected, I suppose. I think it will do nicely."  
"What are you planning on doing?"  
"Well, if I can make Gayar popular I can make Eddie scary, don't you think?"  
Aryon glanced down at Eddie laboriously composing below and back at Winterbell, "I think you're mad. Still, you haven't failed yet, so I suppose I can't complain."  
"Good, well, before Eddie thinks of something else to write I'd better be going."  
"You're getting a lot of use out of him aren't you? Well, good luck, Councillor." He held out his hand and Winterbell shook it formally.  
"That's Archmagister to you." She winked and walked downstairs to fetch Eddie.

* * *

They recalled back to Winterbell's house, and while Eddie looked around curiously at everything Winterbell examined the three staffs she had standing in an urn by the door.  
"Which one, do you think?"  
"I quite like the big white on-"  
"It was rhetorical," Winterbell said, reluctantly putting the Staff of Magnus back. "Not that one, not quite yet."

Winterbell bade Eddie to be quiet and sit, and to no matter what to not answer the door. "The news should be spreading, but I'm not talking to anyone until I'm good and ready. And more importantly, until those other two get here."  
"They don't look like much."  
"I'm not intending to fight," Winterbell said shortly, "I'm merely intending to make a point. Now shut up."

Winterbell spent the afternoon sorting out some of her belongings. Eventually she indicated a pile and informed Eddie that he was to sell them at the earliest opportunity, and that he could keep a fifteen percent commission.  
"Planning on moving out?" he asked.  
"Well I do have my own tower…somewhere."

Around sunset Winterbell received two visitors, who arrived by magic to appear suddenly on her woollen rug. Gaydar immediately sat down, looking shaky, and Winterbell wondered if the reason he was so unpopular was because, secretly, he didn't like magic. She had to admit she'd never seen him show any inclination to use any.

Beside Gaydar was another mage, who glanced from Eddie to Winterbell with a look of extreme dislike.  
"I'm really sorry about this," Winterbell said, with a modicum of sincerity, "but I do need your help."  
"I suppose," Llarar Bereloth replied, "I was wise to give in when we met, all things considered."  
"Now now, you joined because you wanted to, remember?"  
The ex-Telvanni sighed, and found a spot to lean against the wall in silence. Winterbell still felt guilty for forcing him to join the Guild, but what had seemed mere avarice on Ranis's part had turned out to be a godsend for Winterbell. Unlike the other two, Llarar was articulate and intelligent, even if he wasn't exactly likeable.

Winterbell opened the window a crack and she guessed that it was time. Everyone would have had plenty of time to gather and to form and express their opinions. She wasn't expecting any help from Marayan, but even silence on his part would be taken to a certain extent as support, as she didn't think he was going to pretend to be surprised.

"Well, unless any of you have any more questions, we'd better be going." Winterbell slung the Wizard's Staff across her back, and held the Staff of War in her hand. She was going in as Telvanni now; the enemy.

With the three Guild and yet Telvanni mages trailing along behind, Winterbell made the longest journey across Balmora in her life. It was surreal; the town was quiet and peaceful, with people cheerfully discussing the warmer weather, and the guards on their rounds were the same as ever.

The Mage's Guild, however, was closed early. Winterbell took one last look around, and opened the door quietly.

There was little noise. Just faint conversation and Winterbell judged that everyone was waiting for her to arrive via magic. She smiled; it was good to have the element of surprise. Forget elemental fire or water, elemental surprise was the most powerful.

Winterbell didn't exactly sneak downstairs, but she did make a point of keeping quiet. She couldn't hear what people were saying, and she thought that might be a good thing. When she reached the ground floor she straightened her robes one more time and put her best foot, in this case, her left, forward.

"I'm so glad everyone could come," Winterbell said as she entered the room, her staff tapping on the stone floor. All heads turned to look at her and there were murmurs of surprise at the people behind her. Not only was Skink attending, but quite a few others as well, from both the Wolverine Hall and Vivec Guildhalls.  
"What's going on?" Estirdalin looked quite alarmed, as if Winterbell had turned up with an army.  
"What's Gaydar doing here?" Skink narrowed his eyes. Winterbell could see Marayan sitting at his desk, looking faintly worried, but keeping himself well out of things.  
Winterbell held up her hands, "All in good time," she said.

"I, as most of you now know, am Winterbell, Guild Captain of Ald'ruhn and Councillor of the Great House Telvanni. Behind me are three mages who are also of House Telvanni." Gaydar looked horrified, but the other kept their polite expressions.  
"And yet," Winterbell continued, "none of them have caused the Guild harm. Indeed, Gaydar has provided the only intelligible response to the Monopoly to come out of Vivec, as I'm sure you all know."  
"Now I don't expect you to trust me very far. Just far enough to get rid of the millstone around your necks that is Trebonius. When I came here I was treated well and justly by you – as I was by House Telvanni, believe it or not. And now I will repay the debt. To all of you."  
"You said, but you said…" Skink frowned.  
"Have I told you an untruth?" Winterbell asked, and continued without waiting for an answer. "Don't think, for one second, that I am some Telvanni pawn. When I told Skink Telvanni was due for a change of leadership I meant it. Think not of this as a Telvanni running the Guild, but the Guild at the head of Telvanni."  
"You're really planning on taking over Telvanni?" Estirdalin asked.  
"I have the support of many in the Council," Winterbell said, "Aryon, Dratha, Demnivanni, even Threna – sort of."  
Gaydar and Llarar looked more impressed by Winterbell's namedropping than the mages did, but at least the others were listening and not hurling fireballs.

"I can't believe so many of you knew about this," Estirdalin eyed Marayan and Ajira and even spared Sharn a stern glance.  
"We've been over this," Ajira said, obviously referring to something discussed before Winterbell had arrived. "I still…Winterbell is my friend, and I believe her."  
Winterbell smiled at Ajira, and resisted the urge to run over and hug her.

"I still don't believe this," Estirdalin rubbed her temples.  
"Look, talk to these people," Winterbell indicated the three behind her, "See what they have to say about the Guild and Telvanni. We're hardly ever in direct competition as it is – there's no reason for them to be disloyal to either side."  
"But we can't trust them."  
"Of course not, I never said you could. Friends close and enemies closer remember?"  
"And which are you?"  
Winterbell shrugged, "I'm me. No more and no less. I've never lied to you, except by omission, and I've done my best for this Guild. And so have the people behind me."  
"But why, Winterbell, why have you done all this?" Masaline looked genuinely confused and upset.  
Winterbell merely shrugged, "Because I can. I don't have any greater reason than that." She grinned disarmingly, "Do I need one?"

The mages started arguing again, and Winterbell found a chair.  
"Go on," she nodded at Eddie and the others, "Go and talk to them. The sooner this is over the sooner you can get on that boat. And the sooner Llarar can go home."

"We can't let you do this," Skink declared eventually.  
"Why not? We can get rid of Trebonius by the rest of the Captains voting. You can do the same for me." She held up her hands, "If the Guild wants me to leave, I will. Now if you like, but I would rather see this through until the end. If I leave now, well, see for yourselves, the Guild is practically falling apart. And Trebonius is ultimately the cause of the trouble, believe me. It was he who let Ranis get away with everything, who hasn't given a coherent order in decades. That might be fine for Telvanni, but we're doing things, we have a responsibility to our customers. Telvanni merely exist – we do things."

There was a brief silence while everyone eyed each other suspiciously.  
"Put it this way," Winterbell said, "Is anyone _else_ planning on challenging Trebonius?"  
"How do we know you'll leave when we ask?"  
"How could I possibly stay if you wanted me out?"

Skink shrugged and turned to Estirdalin, "You know her better than I do, what do you think?"  
Estirdalen looked at Marayan, who shrugged, Ajira, who nodded grimly, Sharn, who scowled and shook her head, Galbedine, who threw up her hands in exasperation and Masaline, who looked even more worried than ever.  
"Winterbell has earned the trust of some of my closest friends, and during the First Seed festival I saw her fight for her friends without hesitation." She glanced at Marayan, "I can't in good conscience turn her away. I can only hope I'm making the right decision."  
"As are we all," Skink added.


	42. The Sands of the Arena

"Right," Winterbell stood up, as if Estirdalin's answer had been obvious, and she'd just been waiting for it. "Eddie, go and get those things I want you to sell and get moving. Recall back when you're done and good luck."

Eddie nodded and hurried out, glad to be out of the mistrustful gaze of the Mages. Winterbell thanked Gaydar and Llarar, and told them they were free to go when they wished. Gaydar went out to catch a stilt-strider, rather than travel by magic, but to everyone's surprise Llarar stayed and started buying things. Presumably no return to civilization could be wasted, and he hovered over Ajira as she made up a batch of blight potions with a rather bemused air.

"Trebonius first, then Gotheren," Winterbell announced to no one in particular, although everyone was listening. "I need that last vote on the Telvanni Council and I won't get that until Eddie comes back."  
"Where's he going?" Marayan asked, speaking up for the first time.  
"Mournhold. I've been tracking down Edwinna's murderer, and I think it all started there."

That got a reaction, as Winterbell had intended it to do. She refused to say more on the subject, and entreated everyone to keep quiet about it. She had no doubt the news would get back to the person responsible, but she didn't think she was tipping her hand too much.

No one really wanted to leave, but no one had much left to say, either. Everyone seemed to be in a mild state of shock, except for Winterbell, Ajira and Marayan. Sharn looked furious, but she did nothing more than mutter unhappily to herself as she tidied up her workbench.

Winterbell didn't want to be the first to leave, and so she wandered over and asked Marayan how his little obsessions were going.  
"I tried to have a look around, to get what I wanted. It's impossible – I may have to take your advice. Although I'd rather not."  
"So you're actually going to do it then?"  
"I don't have any choice. I can't let him get away with this. I'm hoping he'll pull his horns in, but I don't hold out much hope. And I can't wait much longer."  
"Why not?"  
"Because I want to be here when everything happens, you know when you finally get to rule the world." He grinned.  
"Yes, well. That would suit me also," Winterbell replied quietly.  
"Trebonius is going to be out for your head, you know."  
"I know. I need to get rid of him as soon as possible. I just need some things in writing from Estir and Skink."  
"He's not a bad person."  
"But with the way things are now, he's not going to step down quietly."  
"I don't believe you ever planned to _let_ him step down quietly," Marayan said with a hint of accusation in his voice.  
Winterbell shrugged and grinned, "He's a menace. I shan't miss him."  
"And you're confident you're going to win? He might be mad, but he won't be a pushover."  
"He'll be good practice for killing Gotheren," Winterbell said lightly, although she was less certain about the outcome of _that_ inevitable fight.

Marayan looked rather dubious, but made no comment. Winterbell went over and talked to the other guild captains, and together they wrote a formal letter, announcing their support for Winterbell's challenge. After that Skink took his leave and other people started drifting home and eventually Winterbell did the same.

* * *

The next day Winterbell collected all three staffs and bid Masaline to send her to Vivec.  
"I really wish it wasn't like this," Masaline said, "but I guess, you know best."

Winterbell said she doubted it, and in a flurry of magicka she vanished.

Winterbell was anticipated, as she knew she would be. Trebonius was furious, and he had several mages ranged behind him, as if he expected Winterbell to attack him then and there. Winterbell had no such plans – there was a protocol to be observed for these sorts of things, at least in the Guild.

Gayadar was there also, by himself, and he looked for the first time pleased to see Winterbell. She could only guess what Trebonius had been saying to him.

"Winterbell, you-"  
"Am here to replace you," Winterbell interrupted him with a stony expression. "In accordance with Guild practice I have consulted my fellow Captains on the matter and they have expressed, in writing, their support."She didn't mention that the support from the Caldera quarter had been obtained before she had been revealed as Telvanni.

The mages behind Trebonius began to look a little uncomfortable. Winterbell handed Gaydar the pieces of paper and he carried them over to Trebonius, who snatched them out of his hands so hard he flinched.

"This is impossible, a forgery-"  
"I was there last night," one of the mages spoke up, "in Balmora. They're no forgeries, Trebonius." And with that he quietly moved away from the group, not to stand with Winterbell, but to the side.

Winterbell waited patiently for the wheels to turn inside Trebonius's head. She half expected his mind to give way completely, but eventually he put down the paper with surprising calm.  
"I see, so that's how it is."  
"You brought this all on yourself, Archmage," Winterbell said mockingly.  
Trebonius appeared not to hear her. Instead he drew himself up and in a surprisingly dignified manner declared, "I will meet you in the arena, Councillor. I accept your challenge, and I will take it upon myself to prove that the Guild," he glanced over at Gaydar, "the _true_ Guild, will never allow itself to be governed by Telvanni."

Winterbell scowled. This wasn't the kind of articulate speech she wanted to hear from her enemy. Still, hopefully mere words would soon be forgotten by what would come next.  
"Then I'll see you in the arena," Winterbell said, and indicating that Gaydar should follow, she turned and walked out.

As the one being challenged, it was up to Trebonius to choose the time for the fight. Winterbell knew he'd pick the first available slot and had taken the precaution of finding out beforehand when it was. Winterbell told Gaydar to spread the news, both to the rest of the Guild at to Telvanni. This was going to be political theatre of the best kind, and she knew quite a few people would want front row seats.

* * *

Several hours later, the Arena began to fill. There were shows on most of the time, but when something important happened ordinary people could find their tickets declared null and void so those with money and power could take their places ringside.

Winterbell was below, in one of the many little rooms the fighters prepared in. With her was Gaydar, who was trying to secure both the Wizard's staff and the Staff of War on her back.  
"Well it might be symbolic," Winterbell said, "but it's dammed uncomfortable."

In the seats above, the majority of the Balmora Mage's Guild was discussing the fight in nervous whispers. There was a ripple of conversation around the stands as Aryon and his entourage arrived.  
Estirdalin nudged Ajira while looking at the Telvanni mage, "You know, I can sort of see why she joined, now."  
Aryon looked over at the mages and nodded politely and warily.  
"In a couple days we could be in the same organization," Masaline said, sounding more cheerful about the whole thing than she had since it started.  
"Trebonius is here," Galbedir said, and the group, indeed the whole Arena, fell silent.

Trebonius strode out into the Arena, sand staining the hem of his robe. He had a dagger at his belt, but carried no staff. Everyone knew this would be a fight of magic, rather than weapons. The Archmage glanced around at the audience, reserving a venomous glare for the Telvanni contingent, which also included a fair number of Vivec based Telvanni, who rarely got to observe anything of importance to the House.

The crowd was just beginning to grow restive when the second set of doors opened, and Winterbell stalked into the Arena. In her hand she held the Staff of Magnus, and Master Aryon observed it with interest. Winterbell was very aware of the audience, and she betrayed not the slightest hint of nervousness.

She eyed Trebonius with quiet confidence, and smiled, inviting him to take the first shot. So he did. Trebonius summoned neither fire nor frost; instead a cloud of magic toxin formed around Winterbell. With a graceful gesture, Winterbell used the staff.

Winterbell strolled out of the cloud as if it were nothing but morning mist. She raised her hand and the fight began in earnest.

Winterbell cast her trademark frost spells, and the sand beneath their feet grew cold and frosted. Trebonius cast again, and Winterbell stumbled out of the way, coughing and retching as her resistances failed her. Trebonius stopped to drink potions, but Winterbell just kept casting.

The crowd was silent, listening to the crackle of magic and the faint incantations. Even the people in the cheaper seats, with no real stake in the outcome of the fight, kept quiet.

Whenever Winterbell's frost ate into Trebonius's skin, the lesions started to heal almost immediately. The deeper wounds remained, but Trebonius refused to give up the fight. He tossed the last of his potions aside and drew his dagger. There was a faint sigh from the crowd; the end was near. Unless he scored a lucky hit with his dagger, Trebonius would fall, with no reserves of magicka left.

Trebonius attacked, and Winterbell dodged out of the way, smacking him in the head with the staff, a move guaranteed to express her contempt to the watching audience. Up in the stands, Marayan shook his head and looked away for a moment.  
"End it, Winterbell," he muttered, certain of the outcome.

Winterbell didn't hear him, but she was walking a fine line between showing off and alienating people. Her next fight would be nowhere near as public, so she had to warn would-be challengers off now.

Trebonius stumbled, recovered and came at Winterbell again, his teeth bared in a snarl. Winterbell dropped her staff and grabbed Trebonius's wrist with her left hand. In a contest of physical strength she was hopelessly outclassed, but all she wanted to do was control Trebonius's swing just long enough for her to get her free hand around his throat.

Winterbell hissed out a final spell and Trebonius choked. He tried to say something but nothing came out. There was real fear in those mad, dark eyes for a second, and then, like a felled tree, he hit the sands, and his eyes were empty. Around his neck was a hideous purplish bruise – the skin like ice.

Winterbell walked over and picked up the Staff, carefully brushing off a few sand grains. She leaned on it, feeling sick and drained, before kneeling down over Trebonius's corpse and removing the amulet from around his neck.

Winterbell looked around at the crowd, and someone started clapping. The people in the cheap seats stood up first; a fight between mages was a spectacle to be applauded, and the rest of the stands followed suit, with varying levels of enthusiasm.

Winterbell waited until the noise had died away. She concentrated on not looking as ill as she felt as she walked towards the Telvanni section. She kept her eyes fixed on Aryon, who waited impassively.

She raised her staff, and the stands quieted. She smiled mirthlessly,  
"Tell Gotheren he's next!"


	43. Anno Telvanni

Aryon smiled regally and nodded his assent as a wave of excited conversation rippled over the arena.

Winterbell turned and strode out by the same door she had arrived, finding her little cell and collapsing into a chair. She slugged back a couple potions and divested herself of the various staffs with some relief. She had instructed Gaydar to inform the rest of the Guild that she would not be taking up any duties as Archmage until she was also Archmagister, as a sign of her good intentions.

There was no point in hanging around, so Winterbell recalled back to her house in Balmora, leaving it to everyone else to clean up the mess. When she arrived back there was a note of congratulations from Baladas and she wondered how he'd found out so fast – he certainly hadn't been in the audience.

Winterbell tried to nap, but afternoon sunlight was streaming in her window, and for the first time she felt less than secure in her little town house. She was tempted to retreat to her Telvanni Tower, which she had yet to visit, and once again cursed the planner who had assigned her land in the middle of nowhere. She had a shrewd idea that Gotheren had a hand in the inconvenient location.

The knowledge that Eddie could reappear in her house at any time was not exactly conductive to relaxation either, and Winterbell gathered an armload of goods and went out to sell them, for a hugely reduced price. Her house was now starting to look decidedly empty; she hadn't had time to go collecting ingredients in quite a while, and the majority of her eclectic collection had been sold.

"I suppose it would be rather undignified for an Archmage to continue living here," Winterbell muttered, and started throwing everything she didn't need out. She took one last look at the Dwemmer books and carefully packaged them up, with the intention of eventually presenting them to Baladas, since he was still the only one who could read them.

* * *

Early the next morning Eddie returned while Winterbell was mid-breakfast. She handed him a kwana egg as he produced the spoils of his travels, including quite an impressive amount of gold. She gave him only a couple hours to recover, before traveling to Sadrith Mora, her sights firmly set on Nelos's tower.

Winterbell wandered in the front doors alone, and spoke to no one as she levitated the central hole that the tower was constructed around. It was possible to levitate outside and enter via one of the aerial doors, but Winterbell wanted Nelos to know she was coming.

In a scene reminiscent of the one in the Vivec Mage's Guild only a day earlier, Nelos had his best subordinates paying very close attention as Winterbell floated up and landed lightly before him.

"Congratulations, Archmage," he said sarcastically. "I'm so pleased you've found a position that so suits your lack of ability."  
Winterbell smiled faintly, although she wasn't looking quite at Nelos, but at the wall behind him.  
"Master Nelos, I have little desire to kill you; finding a replacement will be tiresome, so I will give you one last chance."  
"We've had this conversation before," Nelos said dismissively. "Either fight or don't, but I will not be bluffed."  
"I'm not bluffing, and I think it might be time to prove it. Do you know who the commander of the watch is in Ald'rhun? Probably not, but it matters little. If you ask Master Demnivanni he will tell you that this man believes that Edwinna Elbert was killed by something like this." Winterbell held up her hand, and between her fingers was an ebony dart, a cylinder of ominous grey with a needlelike tip. Nelos frowned slightly as he eyed the tiny weapon in Winterbell's grasp.  
"Nelos, why don't you try thinking for yourself occasionally? How could I, an outlander and a mage, be standing before you in circumstances like these if I hadn't had a certain amount of help?"  
"Just what are you implying?"  
Winterbell smiled, "That if I don't get your vote my friend will drill a hole in your neck."

Behind Nelos materialized a figure, dressed head to toe in Dark Brotherhood armor; a dart identical to the one in Winterbell's hand held against Nelos's neck. The guards stiffened and groped for their weapons, but Nelos held up his hand, stilling them. The end of the dart just brushed his skin.

"You- you're Dark Brotherhood?" his voice went up a couple octaves.  
"I am many things," Winterbell said. "Now, I'm only going to ask you this once more; do I have your vote?"

Winterbell waited in stony silence while Nelos made up his mind. The assassin waited too, not moving a muscle. One of the guards made a move towards Winterbell, but she stilled him with a glare.  
"Wait for your orders," she hissed.  
Eventually Nelos's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Yes, Winterbell, you have my vote. But if you think I'm going to let you walk all over the Council-" He might have sounded more impressive if he hadn't flinched when the silent assassin moved back.  
"You do as you see fit," Winterbell said, and with a nod at the dark figure she stepped backwards and made a swift exit as the assassin swallowed a potion and vanished.

Winterbell was on the boat to Tel Aruhn, pulling out of Sadrith Mora harbor when Eddie reappeared and tore off the Dark Brotherhood helm.  
"I can't believe that worked," he said, struggling out of the rest of the armour, which was more than a bit too small for him. "Oh, my feet hurt."  
"You did well," Winterbell said, carefully measuring out her praise.  
"Don't ask me to do anything like that ever again," he pleaded, gulping down sujamma. "I didn't have any poison."  
"Well of course not. If I'd sent you to Mournhold for poison as well as darts you would have gotten some – in your neck."  
"But if you sent me to Mournhold so I could pretend to be Dark Brotherhood," Eddie frowned, "that means you didn't kill Edwinna. So who did?"  
"The Dark Brotherhood, of course," Winterbell replied promptly.  
"But why?"  
Winterbell shrugged and Eddie lapsed into silence for a while.  
"So you're going to kill Gotheren now?" Winterbell looked mildly irritated as Eddie restarted the conversation.  
"I'm going to try. But don't worry, I won't need your help – I _can't_ ask for help. That is the way these things work."  
"And if you die?"  
"I dare say Aryon will find you something to do. You have proved both loyal and useful, in a way," Winterbell said grudgingly, less than interested. "Now be quiet, I have to prepare."

Winterbell still carried the Staff of Magus, although she'd left the other two at home. She was wearing some of her most powerful enchantments, but even so she felt rather apprehensive. There had to be a reason why Gotheren had all of the other councillors, bar Baladas, intimidated.

Winterbell arrived at Tel Aruhn and told Eddie to remain on the boat. If she did fail she didn't know what would happen to her Mouth, and until she'd come along Eddie had been all but exiled from Telvanni.

Tel Aruhn was a slaving port, a tower, and little else. And it seemed people knew she was coming, as the streets were rather empty. When Telvanni mages fight the collateral damage could sometimes be considerable.

There were people stationed inside the tower, but no one challenged her, and the guard was most polite. There was always a chance that the challenger would win, after all.

Gotheren did not have any subordinates around him. He resided in solitary splendor on his own floor. What he did have, however, were a couple of dremora flanking him, their faces impassive and incapable of expression.

Gotheren heard her out with a kind of studied politeness and when she'd finished he nodded regally and said he'd think about stepping down. Winterbell was stunned into speechlessness for a few seconds, and wondered if all her preparations had been for nothing.  
"How long will you need to think?" she asked.  
"A few days," he said with a shrug. Winterbell narrowed her eyes as he apparently decided the audience was over.  
"Why can't you decide now?"  
"I need a few days to think."

Winterbell frowned and wandered back out onto the stairs. Gotheren was apparently not going to fight her, but she had to admit he wasn't likely to step down either. He was so _irritating_. He wanted her to make the first move, she realized, and that once she had there would be no mercy from the Telvanni leader.  
"So that's the way it's going to be," she said, and began to cast her enchantments.

She decided her best bet was to ignore the dremora, as Gotheren was by far the most dangerous of the three. If she took a few hits, then so be it; she had Trebonius's amulet constantly leeching healing magic through her body, a feeling that was as disconcerting as it was reassuring.

She didn't give any warning, instead turning and flinging her most powerful frost spell into the room. All three staggered back, and the two dremora pulled their weapons and broke into a run. No guards came to interfere, even as Gotheren raised his voice to cast a spell. Winterbell frowned, trying to recognize the words.

She found out what the spell was soon enough, it tore through her magical defenses and she found herself paralyzed as a searing mixture of magic ripped into her. As the spell wore off the dremora attacked and Winterbell stumbled forward, twitching and bleeding, but still casting. Her magic had done Gotheren some damage, and his hands were frostbitten as he raised them again.

This time Winterbell resisted the spell, as a dremora drove its spiked club into her back. Winterbell ignored it. She kept coming forward towards Gotheren, casting as fast as she possibly could, even as she felt blood running down her shredded back. The wall hangings were encrusted with frost, and their feet crunched on frozen carpet.

Winterbell expected to be attacked from behind again, but to her surprise one of the dremora groaned and fell dead at her feet. Winterbell didn't dare look behind her, but this piece of good fortune was enough to hearten her. She pressed forward the attack, even as she heard lightning crackle from somewhere behind her.

Gotheren was failing, even as lightning arced over Winterbell's shoulder to attack the Archmagister. He wasn't even looking at her any longer, his gazed fixed instead on someone behind her.  
"Baladas!" he snarled raising his hands.  
"_I_ am your opponent," Winterbell growled, interrupting his casting by swinging the staff.

Lighting arced and Winterbell cast, and even then, Gotheren did not look at her. Even as he fell to his knees and then to the floor. Winterbell bared her teeth in frustration and kicked him, but he was already dead.

"You!" She whirled around and stabbed at the air with an accusing finger, even as she staggered, dizzy from loss of blood.Baladas held up his hands, "I did nothing. I swear to you. I just returned your rightful property." He indicated the shock centurion, who was sporting some charring around its electric claw and some deep gouges in its metalwork. Winterbell sat gingerly in Gotheren's chair, feeling Trebonius's amulet start putting her back together.  
"So you weren't casting the lighting, the centurion was," she said wearily.  
"I'm not allowed to help," he said, with a measure of smugness.  
"So you just returned my property, right, right. How very clever of you," Winterbell said sourly.  
"You'd be dead if I hadn't."  
"He didn't even look at me," Winterbell glared at Gotheren's remains.  
"He knew all along that I was the one who wanted him dead, and that I was working through you. Don't worry you're the one with the title now, Archmagister."  
"I thought you said you weren't going to come and gloat," Winterbell said with a faintly accusing tone.  
Baladas shrugged, "I was wrong, wasn't I? Anyway, the point is, the old bastard is dead," he grinned, "And you're in charge. So, what are you going to do now, friend Winterbell?"  
"I'm going to make a new base," she said, "somewhere much nicer and more central than Uvirith's Grave."  
Baladas narrowed his eyes knowingly, "Got any ideas?" he asked.  
Winterbell smiled, "As a matter of fact I do. Lovely little place. I think I'll call it Tel Balmora."


	44. Tel Balmora

Winterbell lost no time in exerting her authority over Gotheren's household. There was no resistance, for the succession had been perfectly within the traditions of the House. There was some muttering when Winterbell ordered everyone to spread the word about where Telvanni's newest base would be, but with Baladas drifting around looking menacingly pleasant no one complained openly or stepped out of line.

Winterbell never stopped moving. With things organized at Tel Aruhn she traveled to Tel Vos, to talk with Aryon, who was most pleased. It was only now that she realized he was rather surprised that she'd succeeded in killing Gotheren, a revelation that soured her mood somewhat, although she didn't let it show.

Eddie was dispatched with the news and a set of orders for the Mage's Guild, and he departed smartly with his nose in the air, presumably already composing his next letter to his mother.

Baladas declared the damage done to the shock centurion superficial, and it hissed and hummed along behind Winterbell, causing comment and consternation wherever it went. Winterbell soon grew used to the noise, and to her surprise the machine had no trouble rolling up and down flights of stairs. In what Baladas dryly described as a 'stunning display of originality', Eddie had referred to the machine as Shocky, and the name stuck, despite Baladas's protests.

Baladas eventually got bored and returned to Gnisis, telling Winterbell he'd be in Balmora the next day and that he looked forward to seeing what she had planned. Winterbell had been asked more than once what she planned to do about the Hlaalu Council House, which was in Balmora, and probably wouldn't appreciate the influx of Telvanni. Winterbell merely said that they'd get by on a technicality and that if Hlaalu knew what was good for them they'd stay out of it.  
"We don't want to start a house war," Aryon cautioned her.  
"Hlaalu has its own problems," Winterbell said cryptically.

* * *

Winterbell gathered an entourage and traveled to Wolverine Hall. Skink was circumspect in his congratulations, but Winterbell grinned at him cheerfully and told him that his branch of the Guild would soon become one of the most important ones, as trade started with Telvanni. He didn't look totally convinced, but managed to smile weakly as Winterbell and half a dozen Telvanni used Guild transport to Balmora.

In Balmora only Marayan was conspicuous by his absence. Winterbell barely had time to dwell on it, instead explaining that Balmora was her home and she intended to continue to conduct business there.  
"But I need to have Telvanni representatives too," she explained, "so I'm setting up a little colony nearby. They shouldn't bother you at all."  
Estirdalin put on a frosty smile, "Of course. We wouldn't be bothered by a few Telvanni. They could stay here, if they'd like."  
Winterbell said she thought separate accommodation would be more appropriate. The Telvanni behind her agreed.

In the late afternoon sunshine Winterbell led her group of Telvanni out into the square. Behind them trailed the Mages, interested to see what would happen next. The guards hefted their weapons uneasily, but no one had broken any laws, and they did nothing but frown.  
Winterbell raised her hand, pointing at the towering grey hills to the north of Balmora.  
"That ought to be sufficient," she said. With no further ado, the Telvanni started scaling the hills, carrying several large seeds.

It had taken weeks for Winterbell's tower to be grown by one solitary Orc. Winterbell had no time to waste, and so several wizards were assigned each seed, and within minutes they were sending shoots into the rock, sending small stones rolling down the side of the hill.

Winterbell, along with the majority of the citizens of Balmora sat back and watched as the twisting vines groaned under the stress of growing so fast, and the rock beneath them shivered and cracked. As bulbous rooms were formed, and twisting green spires coiled into the sky, Winterbell decided everything was well in hand, and sought out Estirdalin, to ask her about Marayan's whereabouts.

The mage answered her distantly, her eyes fixed on the towers sprouting above the town. Marayan had gone to visit his brother, she explained, and had apologized for not being there for Winterbell's return. He'd said he didn't know when he'd be back.  
"Or _if_ he'll be back," Winterbell said grimly.

Winterbell stalked back to her house, Shocky following.  
"He's an idiot," she muttered. "He'll end up dead." She sighed and rubbed her temples. She didn't want to steal his glory the way Baladas had stolen hers; what Marayan had to do was in a sense far more important.  
"To hell with it," she said, and picked up her bell hammer. It would make a nice change to fight someone who _wasn't_ a mage for once.

Night was falling as Winterbell snuck away from the continuing construction, which still seemed to hold the entire town in thrall. She told the stilt strider driver that she wanted a detour to Pelagiad, and that it would not be in his interest to refuse. Since she was the only passenger he agreed, and Winterbell promised him a generous tip.

Winterbell had left Shocky back at Balmora, since she was going to attempt to sneak into the plantation, and pouring potions on the machine seemed to have no effect.

* * *

The path to the Dren Plantation was now a familiar one to Winterbell, and she made good time. She guessed that Marayan would make one last attempt to talk his brother out of whatever he planned to do, and she hoped that they were still talking. Ultimately, neither really wanted to kill the other.

Winterbell cast her Amulet of Shadows and as quietly as she could, eased her way in though a side door. She'd never been inside the Dren manor before, and was disoriented for a moment as she found herself halfway up a set of stairs. There were no signs of the Ienith brothers, which was to be expected. There was a guard down near the door, and she could hear servants or slaves working in a kitchen somewhere.

From the sounds above, the time for talking had passed. As quiet as a ghost, Winterbell ascended to the top floor, following the sounds of battle.

The two brothers were still circling each other, only occasionally striking – giving the other a chance to back down. Marayan was surrounded by the purplish haze of a shield spell and had Winterbell's daedric shortsword in his hand.

Winterbell frowned, maybe if she got her hands on that proof the Marayan wanted a duel to the death would be avoided. As silently as she'd arrived, Winterbell snuck back downstairs. The guard was a problem that Winterbell solved by smacking him on the back of his head with her hammer. He dropped without a sound.

Winterbell had no trouble finding the door. It was heavily locked and Winterbell looked at the intricate mechanism in despair. There was no way she'd get through that. A scroll would take care of the locks, but she had no doubt that Orvas could afford the very best traps money could by. There really was only one way to get through the door.

So Winterbell knocked.

Then she ducked out of the way, and watched as the door opened, apparently of its own accord. Eyes narrowed in concentration, she listened for the telltale scrape of feet, barely daring to breath. Well, there was one, but where was the other?

The Ienith didn't say anything, and eventually Winterbell's nerve broke. She took a breath and whispered a frost incantation. He grunted in pain and the invisibility potion wore off as he turned and swiped at Winterbell with his jinkblade. Winterbell had had enough of being paralyzed and ducked, expecting the move. She wasn't sure, but she thought the other brother was nearby. She didn't dare back away from the wall, for that would leave her exposed on two fronts.

Winterbell cast again, this time a wide spell that caused someone off to the side to yelp in pain. So that's where the second brother was. Winterbell cast the enchantment on one of her gloves – it had been a present from Aryon – and the corridor was suddenly full of atronachs.

Both brothers yelled, and Winterbell flinched as the creatures started hurling spells around. Dren would need to do some redecorating once this was over. Winterbell snuck in through the door, leaving the battle behind her for a second. She found herself in a well furnished room with two beds – the brother's quarters. Winterbell started searching through chests with a speed born of desperation.

Eventually her fingers closed around a piece of parchment, hidden near one of the beds. Winterbell only glanced at it for a second before shoving it into a pocket.

When Winterbell went back out through the door one of the brothers was standing over a corpse. The atronachs were all but dead, the storm atronach still swinging grimly at the Dunmer in front of it. Winterbell raised her hand for a final frost spell, when she realized the corpse was that of the guard, not the second brother.

Winterbell turned and cast as she felt the other brother's blade bite into her shoulder. The dunmer staggered back, his weapon falling to the ground as Winterbell, for the second time that day, found herself unable to move.

The dunmer was obviously dying as his brother howled in rage behind Winterbell. As soon as she felt the spell wear off Winterbell turned, with another spell on her lips to see the atronach finally disappear. And the remaining brother looking rather surprised at the daedric shortsword protruding from his chest.

Winterbell cast the spell anyway, and the enforcer fell to the floor, as Marayan pulled the sword from his chest.

Winterbell and Marayan regarded each other silently for a few moments.  
"What are you doing here?" he asked finally.  
"I was looking for your proof. So you wouldn't have to kill Orvas. Although it seems I was a bit late."  
"Oh. Well, thanks. I was planning on leaving and just faking the proof," Marayan confessed, leaning against the wall. "I couldn't have fought all this lot as well."  
"Are you all right?" Winterbell asked.  
"I think I have more potions in me than blood, right now."  
"That wasn't quite what I meant." Winterbell walked forward and handed Marayan the parchment.  
Marayan closed his eyes for a moment, "It's over. He's dead. Ilmeni can, she can probably take it from here. Anyway, I see you're still alive."  
"Barely. Still, everything seems to be going well. Big announcements tomorrow – everyone will be there. Everyone who's still alive, anyway." Winterbell glanced around the corpse-strewn floor.  
Marayan yawned, "Can't it wait a couple days?"  
"Nope, but if you ask me afterwards I'll grant you a holiday," she said cheerfully.  
Marayan sheathed his sword and tossed a key to some slaves, who had ventured out to see what had happened, "Get out of here," he told them. "It's under new management."  
"Whose management?" Winterbell asked.  
"Ilmeni's I suppose. I'll send this parchment to her – let her decide what she wants to tell Vedam. I think I'm a little old for 'I told you so's."  
"That's a relief," Winterbell said.  
Marayan raised an eyebrow, "Why, are you about to admit you were wrong and I was right about something?"  
"No. You might be, but I'm not about to admit it," she smiled and he grinned back.  
"All right then, I can live with that. Shall we go to Pelagiad for dinner, Archmagister?"  
"Why not? I don't expect to get a moment's peace in Tel Balmora."  
"Okay – wait, what? _Tel_ Balmora? What have you done, Winterbell?"  
"You'll find out soon enough."  
"That does not fill me with confidence."


	45. The Last Day of Spring

The next day dawned bright and clear, the sky was an impossible shade of blue, and the newly-grown town of Tel Balmora to the north added to the air of unreality. Winterbell hadn't made an appearance since she'd taken off to rescue Marayan the evening before; she'd returned to her house via magic and no one had the courage to knock on her door. She'd made it clear she'd make her announcements when she was ready.

The Balmora Mage's Guild was full of mages, all speculating wildly about what was going to happen. No one had really expected Winterbell to take on Telvanni and win, and the mood swung from cautious hope to near panic.

The news had arrived that Orvas Dren was dead, and while a few people cautiously expressed their sympathy, most saw the look in Marayan's eye and tactfully didn't raise the subject. Marayan half-expected to be hauled off by the guards, but it seemed that the family, or what was left of it, was hushing everything up. Marayan had advised various officials of House Hlaalu to keep their nose out of things for a little while longer, although he couldn't see how Telvanni and Hlaalu could share Balmora long-term, or even until the next day.

Baladas arrived mid morning and cheerfully wandered into the Mage's Guild, greatly enjoying the consternation he caused. Aryon was rather more tactful, confining himself to the mushroom towers to the north.

Around noon the crowd began to gather in earnest, lining the town square in front of the Mage's Guild and within full few of the towers. Most ordinary townsfolk kept well clear, watching from windows and the upper stories of shops.

Mages of both the Guild and House Telvanni mixed uneasily, and formed little groups of their own factions. Marayan and Ajira flanked the door to the Mage's Guild, by unspoken agreement giving Winterbell an escape route, should she need one.

The sun was almost directly overhead when Winterbell emerged, every item she wore gleaming with enchantments. She carried the Staff of Magnus, and behind her the Shock Centurion rolled sedately, its optic sensor scanning the crowd with a kind of blank menace.

Eddie approached her and wished her a good morning, and conveyed congratulations from his mother. Winterbell managed to keep a straight face. She nodded at Aryon and Baladas who were rather cautiously conversing. Winterbell might have felt rather used, but Aryon was possibly feeling the same way, having been an instrument of Baladas's epic revenge on Gotheren.

Winterbell strode into the center of the square, glancing back once at Marayan and Ajira with a thoughtful expression. She surveyed the crowd, and then the town and its accompanying Telvanni towers with a look of mischievous satisfaction. The towers had their roots sunk deep into the rock, and they could not be moved without some serious magical engineering.

Winterbell waited for the talk to die away, her lined face impassive now. Although she showed no sign, her heart was beating wildly, for it was only through force of personality – her personality – that these people were standing in the same vicinity without fighting. She had them intimidated, for now, but she had outlived her usefulness for most of the Telvanni, and the Guild, she knew, was holding its collective breath and wishing for it all to be over.

Eventually, the crowd fell silent. Winterbell tapped her staff sharply on the cobblestones once, and then took a deep breath.

"Fellow wizards," Winterbell began, "today marks the beginning of a new era, perhaps not of cooperation, but at least of respect, of tolerance. As I have proven, there is no fundamental difference between us, and-" Winterbell paused and reached up to her neck.

There was a murmur as the crowd craned their necks to see what was going on. With a wince Winterbell pulled something out of her neck; a sinister grey cylinder with a needle-tip. Eddie was the only person other than Winterbell herself to recognize it, and he gasped and started backing away, looking frightened.

This was enough to alarm the rest of the crowd, and the noise rose higher. Winterbell swayed, and both staff and dart fell from her hands. Baladas had his arms folded, and was looking very thoughtful. Marayan and Ajira had started forward to help her when the last person they had expected to see materialized in front of the stricken mage.

Ranis Athrys carried a sword that gleamed with an ominous greenish shade and Winterbell looked angry, rather than surprised, when Ranis ran her through with it.

"Winterbell!" Marayan started forward then skidded to a halt when he noticed the dark figures appearing on the rooftops, all wearing the same black armour.

Ranis pulled her sword out of Winterbell's stomach and she fell without a sound. Ranis stooped and picked up the Staff of Magnus, turning to address the crowd, who were muttering angrily, but cowed for now by the Dark Brotherhood assassins.

"I must thank my predecessor for creating this position for me." Ranis smiled, eerily and without humour. "And she was correct about one thing; this is the beginning of a new era."

"How dare you." A voice rang out, calm and clear, and Baladas stepped forward, the crowd parting to let him through. "How dare you assume that House Telvanni can be held to ransom in this _crude_ and undignified way."  
"There is nothing crude about poison. Even Winterbell had no resistances to it." Ranis narrowed her eyes and on the rooftops several of the assassins turned towards Baladas. In among his protective entourage, Aryon put his fingers in his ears.

There was a kind of deafening silence, and then the crowd was blinded, then deafened, as out of a cloudless blue sky several bolts of lightning cracked into the roofs where the assassins were standing. The crowd flinched and instinctively ducked as thunder reverberated around the town. Only Baladas stood unmoving, watching as the colour drained from Ranis's face.

Ignoring the vast magical discharge Marayan started forward again, with Ajira behind him. With a strength born of fear more than anything else, he picked Winterbell up and scurried back towards the Guild, Ajira flinging the door open ahead of him.

Ranis cast the enchantment on the staff, but she sensed that the tide had turned. She opened her mouth, either to cast a spell or to protest her case, but Baladas held up an admonitory finger,  
"_Silence_."

And there was. Not just from Ranis but from everyone. Baladas stepped forward and firmly yanked the staff out of Ranis's hand, but he merely held it in the crook of his arm. All heads turned as the door of the Guild opened. Ajira looked at Estirdalin and slowly shook her head, before returning indoors.

The crowd started talking again, and the gaps between the Telvanni and the Guild slowly widened. Aryon frowned and then masking any reluctance in his tone he turned politely to Baladas,  
"Archmagister?" he enquired. Estirdalin and the other mages regarded him warily.  
"Well," Baladas said without concern, "I think this is hardly a respectable way for a Telvanni to spend their day. I certainly have none of the patience Winterbell did for administering this riff-raff. _I'm_ going home." And with that he rapped on the ground once with the staff, and vanished.

Discussion among the Telvanni was intense, as some left immediately to inform the other councilors of yet _another_ change in leadership. Masaline returned to Estirdalin's side with a surreptitious nod, and moments later the Hlaalu guard decided it was time for noon patrol. Not to mention they had a suspect for the Elbert murder to transport to Ald'ruhn.

The Telvanni politely stepped back when ordered to 'move along', although obviously they weren't retreating. But it was lunchtime, and there were things to discuss, and it really was a bit too hot this far west.

* * *

Baladas strolled down the stairs of the guildhall, following the sounds of quiet conversation.  
"And they accuse Telvanni of practicing necromancy," he said, ignoring Marayan's hard glare.  
"Show some respect for the dead," Winterbell grinned weakly. "I suppose I couldn't expect to fool you." Winterbell looked quite pale, and her midsection was swathed in bandages as she lay on one of the guild beds. Ajira pushed past Baladas without giving him a second glance and handed Winterbell a potion, which she drank with a resigned look.  
"A Dark Brotherhood dart and a poisoned blade," she shook her head, "and all you got was a clean wound."  
"What did you expect?" Marayan grinned, "I've never seen so many resist poison enchants in one place before."  
"Will they want a body?" Winterbell asked Baladas.  
"I think," he said carefully, folding his arms, "many will find it useful to believe you are no longer with us. So as long as you don't stage any public events I doubt people will enquire too closely."

"How did you know anyway?"  
"The centurion. He didn't go after the man who attacked you. Which means you didn't want him to, which means you were expecting this – or something like it."  
"I didn't think she'd stab me," Winterbell confessed.  
"And you'd fall gracefully to the ground? No, I think it was a nice touch. Very dramatic."  
Winterbell smiled, "Just what I'd expect from you. Well, I guess you can keep the machine – it's too noticeable to take with me."  
"Take this at least." He leant the staff against the end of the bed, "You're the closest it's got to a rightful owner. So where are you going?"  
"I don't really know," Winterbell replied.  
"I'm coming with you," Marayan said, quickly and firmly. "I've got nothing here – Ilmeni can take care of things. I don't want to be the youngest son the rest of my life."  
Winterbell smiled faintly and shrugged, "I can't stop you."  
Marayan cast a triumphant look at Baladas whose face remained resolutely blank.

"Well, good luck," Baladas shook her hand, "It's been a real pleasure to know you, Winterbell. And if you get bored with the toy boy…"  
Winterbell shook her head as he winked and vanished.  
"Don't worry, Ajira," Winterbell said, "he's not going to cause trouble for the Guild. At least, not bad trouble."  
"I know. Still, we've got some holes in our administration now, especially with you leaving, Marayan. I suppose we've got some recruiting to do."  
"Oh, which reminds me. I've got Ranis's papers in my house – I think you'll find this Guildhall has more money than we all thought. It was all part of Ranis's plan to help me and then take over, but I haven't touched it."  
"How much more money?"  
"I'll let it be a nice surprise," Winterbell smiled and then looked tired. "I think we should get going – this isn't the most secure of hiding places."  
"All right, Winterbell," Ajira smiled kindly, "I'm going to miss you, even if I won't miss the trouble you cause."  
"You'll all be bored witless within a week without me," Winterbell declared.

* * *

"And what about those?" Estirdalin had plucked up her courage and had approached Master Aryon, who was keeping an eye on the Telvanni withdrawal. She inclined her head at the towers.  
"What about them?" he asked, "They're no use to us here."  
"Well what are we supposed to do with them?"  
"Tourist attraction? They're free buildings, why are you complaining?" He grinned and Estirdalin looked away. "In fact, you should thank us."  
"We most certainly will not," she replied sharply.  
"Well, you should at least pay us rent for them."  
"Well, then it's up to you to keep them in good condition and free of rats."  
"As long as you pay for any damage caused." Aryon glanced behind him, "I really should be going."  
"Don't think you've heard the last of this."  
"I certainly hope not," he called back with a laugh.

Estirdalin rejoined the other mages talking quietly outside the guild. She shrugged to indicate she had reached no conclusion.  
"Maybe this _is_ the start of a new era," she said thoughtfully, as the last of the Telvanni magicked themselves away.  
Masaline sighed, "Do you think he'd mind if _I_ wrote to him as well?"


	46. Afterword

He returned from Red Mountain, his ebony armour caked with ash, the light of a god in his eyes and the legendary tools of deicide hanging from his belt. The brawny Redguard arrived back in Balmora, a town that held so many fond memories for the hardened warrior, and where he planned to retire to, now his destiny was fulfilled.

Maybe he'd help train youngsters in the Fighter's Guild, he thought, or maybe open a little inn somewhere. He'd traveled from Ald'ruhn, and as he stepped off the Guild platform he noticed the place was rather empty. He jogged up the stairs, wondering if his news had arrived here yet, it had seemed to have traveled on the wind to Ald'ruhn, where he'd been met with a small, if enthusiastic crowd.

At the front door to the guild he finally met someone, a rather tired looking Altmer, who smiled politely.  
"I have returned from Red Mountain," he declared, "the monster is dead. The blight is no more."  
The Altmer nodded, "That is a relief, thank you friend."  
That was it? The Redguard frowned; maybe wizards didn't really get all the implications – spending all their time indoors as they did.

He stepped outside to see the rest of the mages, or at least some of them, sitting and drinking tea, regarding the… Telvanni towers? In Balmora?  
"What happened here?" he asked, staring at them in amazement.  
"Winterbell happened here," a middle-aged Kaijit told him.  
"Don't worry, it's all over now," the Altmer said, following him out.  
The Kaijit smiled, a little wistfully, "I hope they're happy, wherever they are."

* * *

They were an odd pair, the guard thought, that rather grand old lady and her…friend, bodyguard, consort – whatever the hell he was. They didn't have much luggage, but what they had was stunningly expensive. With the blight miraculously gone the quarantine had been lifted and they were obviously making the most of it, leaving their Expected Date of Return spot blank on the forms. 

It was all rather mysterious. The lady had thrown something to that little swamp rat, Fargoth, and he'd run off, clutching it to his chest and practically crying.

"What was that about?" Marayan asked, watching the Bosmer dash off with bemusement.  
"You don't want to know," Winterbell chuckled, still leaning heavily on the staff, but looking amazingly recovered, thanks to Ajira's potions.

They boarded the ship, and stood on deck, watching Seyda Neen shrink towards the horizon.  
"Summer's coming," Marayan remarked, looking up at the sky.  
"I was only here for a year," Winterbell said, still looking at the smudge of dark green on the horizon, "A year and another spring, anyway." She smiled, "I'm glad I got two."  
"Are you all right?" he asked, leaning around to look at her face.  
"Oh piss off, Dren," she muttered, blinking fast.  
"Never."

The End

* * *

A.N. (You are under no obligation to read any of this) And that is, indeed, the end. To those of you who have stuck with me this far, who have put up with variations in quality and infuriatingly long delays, I can only give you my sincere thanks and marvel at your commitment. 

Morrowind is a beautiful and inspiring game. A complete world for us to play in, with characters and places already sketched in and waiting for us to breathe life into them, whether we are writing fanfiction or playing the game itself. Oblivion is coming soon, and I can't wait, but even if it surpasses the high standards set by Morrowind, it will never hold quite the same place in my heart.

I don't ever intend to write a fanfiction as long as this one again. I started off with no plan, and it shows. I lost interest. I regained interest but lost the plot. Those who manage to write in installments _without_ losing the plot have my undying admiration. I learned many lessons from _A Second Spring_, some about writing, and some more character-building. I've made friends without losing any in the process (what an achievement!), and most importantly I got it finished – something that was constantly in doubt. Many times it was only sheer inertia that prevented me from putting the dreaded 'On Hiatus' in the summary, and essentially condemning the story to the limbo of perpetual works in progress.

Since I started writing _A Second Spring_ I've written two other novels, both original and both umm...better edited, and when put together they roughly equal the length of this story. And it is you, gentle, and not so gentle, readers, who have given me the confidence to do so. If I've given you some entertainment along the way, you've given me an immeasurable amount of hope and courage. And if I end up being published, I will owe that, in part, to you as well.

Farewell, Outlanders,

D


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